Blood is Thicker
by Taedae
Summary: A devastating attack leaves Hermione with half of her humanity and no memories of her life. Barely sure of who she is, she is now left trying to learn how to remain human while Lord Voldemort's forces push war even closer. Takes place after the events of Order of the Phoenix.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe.  
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><p>Pain. Indescribable pain. And darkness. That's all there was. She couldn't even feel her body anymore. There were voices around her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. What sounded almost like laughter rang clear above the other sounds. But it sounded guttural, wrong; almost like an animal. The pain got stronger and she realized that this was what death felt like. She was dying and she couldn't even remember why ...<p>

She suddenly heard screams piece the air before the pain disappeared into the darkness.

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><p>She woke to hushed voices near by. As curious as she was, she didn't have the energy to open her eyes, let alone move. Even trying to think used up too much energy and she felt herself return to the darkness.<p>

When she woke again, there was silence. Breathing deeply, she tried to move but her muscles were so stiff all she managed was a deep moan. Someone gasped next to her and after some shuffling, she heard their loud footsteps rush away. When everything was silent again, she tried to open her eyes. It was a mindbogglingly long process. Finally peeking through her lashes, she noticed the room she was in was dark except for a torch flickering on the opposite wall. Prying her eyes open further, she slowly turned her head to the side. There were empty beds next to her. Beds? Was she in a hospital?

The footsteps returned, louder this time. Startled, she threw her head to the other side to see several people clad in multicolored robes rush toward her. They stopped near her bed and stared, some with their mouths open in shock, while others looked as though they were about to cry. A series of mixed emotions ran through her as she looked at the group of unfamiliar people. Was she a prisoner? Were these people friends of hers? After a moment a tall, elderly man stepped through the group and stopped at the edge of her bed. His gentle face was covered with a long, white beard and his eyes were bright behind his half-moon glasses.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger." Though the man smiled as he spoke, the smile quickly slipped away as he watched her confused expression. Was he talking to her? The brightness in his eyes seemed to dim a little as he turned to a rather tall woman standing at the edge of group. She had a stern face and her hair was pinned back in a tight bun. Leaning close to her, the man whispered something in her ear. Nodding, the woman turned, stepped through the group, and disappeared through a door at the end of the room. "You don't remember me, do you?" the man asked gently. The girl shook her head. "Most interesting," he mused. Smiling again, he clasped his hands together. "Not to worry, we can talk more after your inspection."

"Inspection?" The girl sputtered.

"Your medical inspection," he explained gently. As if beckoned by his words, another woman pushed her way through the group of onlookers carrying a small tray. She walked around the bed to the other side and placed the tray on a nightstand next to the bed. "Shouldn't take long. We can talk afterwards."

"Why do I need a medical inspection?"

The man lowered his head a little and gazed at her over the top of his glasses. "We can talk afterwards," he repeated slowly. Before she could ask any more questions, he turned to the group and ushered them all out of the room, closing the door behind them.

The girl turned her head to the woman next to her, and examined her attire. She wore very simple black and white robes, and a white head dressing. She reminded the girl of a nurse. When the woman ignored her gaze, busy with the tray on the nightstand, she sat up. "I don't need an examination. I'm fine."

The nurse threw her a sharp glare. "I will be the judge of that. Now lay down."

"No."

The nurse gave her a dismissive wave. "Fine. Do as you like, dance if you want to. But you are not leaving here until I have finished looking you over." From her pocket, the nurse pulled out a thin, wood stick and started muttering under her breath, waving the stick between them in rhythmic patterns. Between each of her mutterings, she would pause and lean over to the nightstand to write something down on a chart that lay next to the tray. As if waiting for the girl to give a reaction, the nurse stopped suddenly. "Do you know what I am doing?"

"Medical enchantments."

The nurse stared at her for a moment, a small frown on her lips. "And what is your name?" The girl was stunned by the nurse's question. What _was_ her name? She opened her mouth, hoping the answer would just come out on it's own, but no sound came out. Clicking her tongue, the nurse stood up straight and started writing on the chart again. "Interesting. You know what magic is but you can't remember your name."

"I never said I couldn't remember my name," she shot back defensively. The nurse was right, but she didn't like the feeling of venerability that came with admitting it.

"You didn't have too," the nurse snapped. Ignoring the glare the girl shot her, the nurse continued. "You don't even know where you are, I bet."

She opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but couldn't. The nurse was right once again. She had no idea where they were. Nothing in the room looked familiar and she definitely hadn't been able to recognize any of the people who had been in the room earlier. Feeling defeated, she lowered her head and let the nurse continue her work in silence. When the examination was complete, the nurse turned to the tray and picked up three of the seven vials available. She removed the stopper from the top of each vial and poured them into a clear goblet on the tray.

"Drink this." When the girl didn't take it right away, the nurse grabbed her hand and shoved the goblet into her palm. "Drink, now!" Not feeling up to another argument, she drank the contents of the goblet. It was rather disgusting but she managed to avoid making a ridiculous face. Content, the nurse took the goblet, placed it back on the tray with the empty vials, then lifted the tray and disappearing through a small door at the back of the room. A few seconds passed before she returned. "I will retrieve Professor Dumbledore now." Seeing the look on the girls face, she added "The man with the white beard," before she swept from the room, closing the door.

The silence was excruciating. Trying desperately to not drive herself insane with all of her unanswered questions, the girl stood and walked to the nearest window. Though it was night, the moon was full and it easily illuminated the scenery. Turning her head to the right, she saw the reflection of the moon in a nearby lake. Across the way, she saw a huge forest. But there was nothing of interest to use as a clue to figure out where she was. She was so busy examining the view from the window that she didn't hear Dumbledore enter the room. He stood quietly, hands behind his back, watching her with great interest. She appeared to be as curious as she always had been. But what Madam Pomfrey had reported about the girl's memory still concerned him. After studying her for a few minutes, he decided it was finally time to talk. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat. Startled, the girl spun around but let herself relax a little when she saw him. Something about the old man seemed calming, trusting. She hadn't yet decided if that was a good thing or not.

"I assume you have some questions you would like answered," he mused.

"Yes." She walked back to her bed and sat on the side. Dumbledore took a seat on the bed opposite her. She expected him to start talking, but instead he sat in silence, studying her. Feeling almost naked under his gaze, she shifted uncomfortably. "Are you waiting for me to ask or are you just going to tell me what's going on?"

"I want to see how much you remember first. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse who examined you," he explained after seeing the girl's expression, "informed me that you do seem to remember some of your magical knowledge."

"Yes."

"That's good. And what exactly about magic do you remember?"

She glanced at the floor to gather her thoughts. It was rather difficult to think with him staring at her like that. "Potions, spells, portkeys, everything ..." she faded off, her brow creasing. "But I don't remember how I learned these things. I just ... know them."

"Fascinating."

Unexpectedly, she felt anger bubble forward. It felt foreign and natural at the same time. Unable to control herself, she clenched her hands into fists and glared at him. "You all seem so interested in my misfortune," she snapped.

Completely unphased by her outburst, Dumbledore gave her a gentle smile. "Not at all. We are merely interested in what information you had retained since the incident."

Her anger was immediately extinguished by a feeling of deep cold rushing through her. She shivered. "... incident?"

Taking in her reaction, the smile faded from his lips. He folded his hands in front of him and sighed lightly. "I see_ that_ has also failed to return to your memory ... Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand to silence her. "No questions for now. Please just listen." Feeling defeated by the look on in his eyes, she nodded. "As Madam Pomfrey told you, I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster here." He waved his hand toward the door that led out of the room. "We are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is where you learned your knowledge of all things magical."

She glanced around at the rows of beds around her. "Is this a medical ward?"

"Yes, this is the school infirmary. Madam Pomfrey works here, aiding those students who are ill or injured."

Her eye brows creased again. Was _she_ ill or injured? She felt fine. "How long have I been here?"

"Not all that long," he said causally. "Just a few weeks."

Noting the shock in her eyes, he lifted his hand again to silence her. "You promised you would listen." She could feel the heat of anger slowly returning at his causal tone, but she knew giving in to it wouldn't be a good idea. She took a couple of deep breaths before nodding, agreeing to listen. Satisfied, Dumbledore continued. "You are soon to be seventeen years old, and have attended the school since you were eleven. Your name is Hermione Granger. I am not exactly surprised that, regardless of your Amnesia, you remember so much of your studies; you have always been the brightest witch of your year." A small smile crossed her lips at the compliment. "You come from a muggle family. From September to June you reside here at the school for the term, then return to your family during the summer months.

"This summer, however, you spent one month with your family before returning to the school. I had requested that you, and a few other select students who show great knowledge and promise, return to the castle early to assist the Professors in their duties to prepare for the next school year. It is a fantastic way to put all that knowledge to use, and it looks very good on a resume to the Ministry," he added with a smile.

"Ministry ... of Magic," Hermione nodded lightly to herself. Her memory of the Ministry returned easily once Dumbledore had mentioned it. "Our government."

"That's correct."

"So you brought us here for an internship?"

"You ... could say that." There was something behind his words. He was hiding something. Hermione studied him as he went on. "All of you whom we had selected arrived a few weeks ago, at the end of July. There is only one week left until the new term starts and the other students will also return to Hogwarts. I am relieved that you have recovered before the start of term."

His reference to the mysterious incident made her stiffen. Swallowing, she clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. "Recovered ... from what exactly?"

Dumbledore leaned back a little, observing her. He had taken note of her little spits of anger while they had been talking. Though anger was not part of her normal persona, he supposed he couldn't expect her to be exactly the same person she had been before having lost her memories. "I understand the confusion is hard for you, Miss Granger, but I ask that you please do your best to calmly listen. What I am about to tell you will be difficult to process but it cannot be taken back, so getting angry will do you no good."

She stared at him in silence for a long time. Did she really want to know what had happened to her? She lowered her head and silently debated whether or not to let him continue. But in the end, curiosity won out. Letting out a breath, she looked at the headmaster. "I'll try."

Pleased with her commitment, he motioned his hands towards the door behind him. "I will need the assistance of a witness of the event for you to get all your answers. Is that alright?" When she didn't object, he nodded and turned his back to her, calling out to the closed door. "Professor Snape, could you join us please?" The door opened swiftly and a tall, dark clad man strode into the room. Hermione went stiff and stared at the man in shock. She _knew _him. Seeing the strange look in her eyes, Dumbledore held his arm out in front of Snape, halting him. "Something wrong, Miss Granger?"

It didn't seem to make sense. How did she know him? She hadn't recognized any of the other people she had seen since waking up, so why was he familiar? She lowered her head so she could avoid their eyes. "Severus Snape."

The room was so quiet that the two men heard her whisper quite clearly. Snape stood rooted in place and turned to Dumbledore, confused. McGonagall had told Snape about Hermione's Amnesia when she had come to collect him. Had McGonagall been mistaken? Unfortunately, he received no relief from Dumbledore, as the headmaster seemed just as surprised as he did. A wordless communication passed between the two men before they turned back to Hermione.

"You remember him?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Not exactly," Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember him. I just ... know him."

The men exchanged another quick glance. Snape opened his mouth, but Dumbledore silenced him with a wave of his hand. They would have to discuss this new piece of information later. What they were about to tell her would be difficult enough without confusing her more. "A few weeks ago, about a day or two after you returned to Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued as if her memory jolt hadn't happened, "you and the other students were asked to go into the Forbidden Forest to help restock on potions ingredients. Normally the Forest is forbidden to students as it can be very dangerous, but several of the Professors were accompanying you and your peers on this venture." Hermione turned her head to look out the the window behind her. "Yes," Dumbledore answered before she could ask, "that is the Forbidden Forest."

"Seems a bit ... unwise to have a dangerous forest right on school property," she mused.

"Well, Miss Granger, the forest was here long before Hogwarts was build. It had claim to this land first. That and the founders of the school didn't see the point in destroying a rather useful bit of nature that was so conveniently right next to where they planned to build the castle."

As Dumbledore spoke, Snape took the time to study Hermione. She didn't seem unhinged in any way, so he couldn't blame her recognition of him on mental illness. Had she still be conscious when ... no, that couldn't be right. As if sensing he his gaze, Hermione's eyes suddenly met his with a rather fierce glare. He was momentarily startled by her hostility, but recovered quickly. Placing his trademark sneer on his face, he crossed his arms. To his surprise, she didn't back down. He knew she would not quite be the same person once she recovered, but he wasn't expecting her to seem so ... off.

Dumbledore looked between the two, filing everything away for later inspection. It had been a long time since anyone had dared challenge Snape like that. She seemed to be full of surprises since waking. "As I was saying," he continued, clearing his throat, "at some point, though we don't know when, you had gotten separated from the others. I am still unsure how. You are quite a sensible young woman and I don't think you would choose to wonder the Forest alone." She finally tore her gaze from Snape's and returned her eyes to Dumbledore. "After you had been missing for a short time, Professor Snape noticed your absence from the group and tried to locate you. Thankfully, he was successful."

"You were barely alive," Snape added, throwing all possibility of subtlety out the window. "You had been attacked by a a group of half-vampires. They were too caught up in their ..." he shifted slightly, "activities with you to notice my arrival. They fled rather quickly when I made my presence known."

His dark voice sent a shiver through her. Half-vampires? She didn't even know such a creature existed. A deep cold washed over her again, like ice water straight on her bones. She didn't like Snape, but based on what he said, she would be dead without him. "So you brought me here," she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

"Eventually. I did what healing I could first."

She didn't need to ask why. His tone indicated quite clearly that she would have died if he hadn't taken the time to heal her before bringing her to the castle. She felt like her lungs were being squeezed. She folded forward and started to rub her temples with her hands, doing her best to keep calm. She wanted to send them away. She didn't want to hear anymore. But once again curiosity won out. Head still in her hands, she sighed. "Am I ... not human anymore?"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore replied gently. "You are half-human now. The transition took place while you were unconscious."

"Transition?" Her head shot up to meet Dumbledore's eyes, but it wasn't the headmaster who continued.

"Half breed vampires carry venom much like full vampires. But the venom reacts differently. It's not nearly as powerful, so it doesn't kill the victim. It is the half-vampire's responsibility to kill the victim themselves. If they don't, they risk the venom spreading to live tissue which would cause the victim to become partly converted. The venom is only strong enough to target certain areas of the body." Snape's explaination sounded like a text book. There was no feeling behind his words.

"So I am like them now?" She snapped, pinning Snape with a glare.

"No. Those who are half breeds by venom, not birth, don't have the same venom as those born. The venom you will now produce during a feed will merely be like a euphoric drug, causing the victim to enjoy being your meal."

"Victim? So I'm going to start killing people?"

"Nonsense," Dumbledore interjected. "Your desire for blood will never be that strong."

"But," Snape sneered, annoyed at Dumbledore's attempt to soften the explanation, "you will need a supply of blood from time to ti-"

"Stop," Hermione snapped. "Just stop. I don't want to hear anymore ... I can't handle this right now." She folded forward again, grabbing the sides of her head. Her head was pounding so hard that she could barely see anymore.

Dumbledore leaned forward and reached toward her. "Miss Grange-"

"I said no. Leave me alone!"

Dumbledore's hand paused in mid air. He could suddenly sense a unsettling aura around her. A single glance at Snape told him that her outburst was due to much more than just what had been discussed. Snape stepped back purposefully and motioned for Dumbledore to follow. Once they had retreated to the door, Snape leaned close to the headmaster.

"I warned you."

"Yes, you did," Dumbledore whispered. Sighing, he turned back to Hermione. "I understand that is it a lot of take in, Miss Granger. We will give you some time to think. Let Madam Pomfrey know if you need anything."

She waited until she heard the door close behind them before curling up on her bed and crying.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thank you all for reading. I appreciate **constructive** criticism, so please, if you dislike something I wrote, please be constructive about it instead of bashing my idea. This story has been brewing in my mind for a long time, so I feel it is fairly well thought out, but thoughts or suggestions would be great. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>Dumbledore sat in an elegant high backed chair, a solid oak desk resting between him and his long time friend, Minvera McGonagall. After he had returned to his office, he had invited her to join him for some tea so he could explain what took place in the infirmary with Hermione. Though, until he had more time to investigate it further himself, he left out the information on Hermione's reactions to Snape. He always hated keeping things from her. It was, after all, being so honest with each other all those years ago when he had found her crying in the corridors that solidified their friendship. But he knew it was in McGonagall's best interest to not be privy to all the information quite yet. He just hoped that when it was finally time to tell her, that she wouldn't be too upset.<p>

McGonagall sighed, breaking the long silence that had fell when he finished. "How are we going to handle this, Albus?"

"_We_ aren't, my dear." Dumbledore replied calmly as he lifted his cup of tea and took a small sip. "It is Severus's job to look after her now."

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall sputtered, her own cup of tea left forgotten on the desk. Dumbledore placed his cup gently on the saucer and folded his hands together. It had been a very long time since McGonagall had see so much darkness in the headmaster's eyes, even when discussing Lord Voldemort. It make him look much older and almost frail. Was Hermione's condition really what was bothering him, she wondered. Or was there more to the events than Dumbledore was letting on?

"Severus is the only member of our staff who has the knowledge of how to handle converted half-vampires, Minerva."

"Can't he just ... teach someone else how to look after her?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore responded gravely. "Converts aren't as simple to deal with as those who are born that way. She needs to be handled properly."

McGonagall mentally cringed. He made Hermione sound like an animal that needed to be caged. "But Severus has enough on his plate as it is, Albus, what with his duties to you and the Order." She shifted to the edge of her seat, her eyes pleading with him to change his mind. "And I really don't feel comfortable with having one of _my_ students in his care. If she were Slytherin, then I might feel differently."

"Now, be honest with yourself, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "you wouldn't let Severus look after Salizar Slytherin, let alone Miss Granger." McGonagall sighed. In all the years she had known him, Dumbledore had always tried to add a little humor in serious conversations. Maybe it was his own way of dealing with the stress? She opened her mouth but he cut her off before she could even get a word out. "I understand your reservations, but there is a lot more involved with looking after her than meets the eye. It is a highly dangerous position to be in and I can't think of anyone else in the castle who would be willing to take on this responsibility."

His choice of words made her want to laugh in disgust. "Yes, well, I doubt Severus is very _willing_ either."

Dumbledore studied her over the top of his glasses. He would never admit to hiding things from her, but he knew she could tell just by looking at him when he was hiding secrets. He wished he could tell her more, but it wasn't the right time yet. "True as that may be, he has already agreed to my request."

She pressed her lips into a firm line and she shook her head. "Albus ..."

"I'm sorry Minerva, but it has already been decided." Standing up, Dumbledore walked around his desk and crossed to a near by window. He had no interest in what could be seen from his tower, but he couldn't stand sitting still any longer. "The fact is, she survived the attack _because_ of Severus, so even if someone else knew how to handle her, she would still be his responsibility. And if Severus fails to care for her, I will have no choice but to put her in the hands of the Ministry." The moon cast an eery glow on the headmaster's face. "As it is, it is bad enough that I haven't handed her over to them yet. They will be watching her very closely, Minerva. There will be Ministry representatives here constantly just waiting for her to mess up so they can whisk her away. And I dare not even tell you what they would do with someone like her. Which is exactly why we need Severus's help." He turned to see McGonagall frozen in her chair, watching him with tears in her eyes. Smiling gently, he crossed to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. "She can still be saved, Minerva. Have faith in her. She is very strong willed."

Sniffling, she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. She was in pain for Hermione. McGonagall had known her since she was eleven, and now, the girl she had known for five years was lost. Did any of the old Hermione remain? "I am not sure her will will be enough, Albus."

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and stroked McGonagall's hair soothingly. "Then let us hope that Severus's will will be stronger."

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><p>A few hours had passed since Dumbledore and Snape had left. Hermione had cried for a long time, unable to control the waves of anger, sadness, and confusion. But once she had finally stopped crying, she realized that sending them away might not have been the best course of action. Now that she was alone, her brain wouldn't stop racing through a slew of unanswered questions. Feeling about ready to go crazy with nothing but her own thoughts, she started to consider sneaking out of the infirmary when she heard the door open behind her. Relief washed over her as the visitor's soft footsteps drew near and stopped at the side of her bed. But that relief was instantly crushed a moment later.<p>

"Madam Pomfrey has released you from her care."

As his dark voice rolled over her, she internally groaned. Snape was the last person she wanted to see right now. He was cold, unfeeling, and just being around him set her temper on edge. Not to mention her unexplainable recognition of him earlier was still nipping at her mind, making her defensive. But she knew she couldn't just lay there and pretend to ignore him. _But_ she didn't have to be nice to him either.

"Are you her messenger boy, then?" she sneered, her back still turned away from him.

Snape's eye narrowed but he decided against rising to her childish comment. He didn't want her to think she had any power over him. "Professor Dumbledore instructed me to escort you to your quarters."

"I'm sure I can find my own way," she snapped. Rolling over, she sat up and glared at him. "Just tell me where I need to go and be on your way." She waved her hands dismissively in the direction of the door.

He stared at her in silence. He had thought that her attitude earlier was due to shock, but he was starting to realize that the attitude was just part of her now. "Follow me," he hissed as he turned around and crossed to the door. There, he paused and looked over his shoulder. She hadn't moved; she was still sitting on the bed, arms crossed with a defiant look in her eyes. "Now, Miss Granger," he snapped.

"No."

Sneering, he crossed his arms and slowly walked back to her bed like an animal stalking prey. Standing tall, eyes narrowed, he leaning forward and towered over her small figure. "As one of your Professors, when I give you an order, you are expected to conform."

"No," she repeated as she stood up. "I am not going anywhere with _you_."

He was losing his patience. "If it wasn't for _me_, you would be a corpse in the Forest right now," he snapped.

"Well maybe you should have just left me to die!"

A thick silence fell between them. Snape creased his eye brows and studied her carefully. The transition had changed her more than he had anticipated. Attitude was one thing, but wishing for death? He couldn't wrap his mind around how disturbing she sounded when she said that. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.

"Maybe I do," she whispered, looking away. The silence only lingered for another moment before Snape, tired of her antics, grabbed her wrist and started pulling her toward the infirmary doors. Her heart started to race as a burning rage pushed it way to the surface. Growling, she pulled her arm back, tearing it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!"

Snape glanced at his now empty hand and then at her eyes. When she had woken up earlier, her eyes had been a deep purple. But now, as her rage intensified, he watched her eyes slowly turn pitch black. To any other wizard, it would be a sign of danger. But to Snape, it was a sign that he was close to winning. Smirking, he leaned closer to her. "If I were you, I would leash that defiant tongue of yours. I have much better things to do with my time to stand here arguing with you."

"Then why are you here?" she spat.

"Because as of now, on Dumbledore's orders, you are under my care until further notice."

Hermione stood rooted in place, her anger dying away amongst the shock. "You're lying."

"Unfortunately, no. I am not. Now," he grabbed her sleeve again, with a much more firm grip than before, "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's up to you, Miss Granger. But either way, I _will_ be bringing you to your quarters."

Breathing deeply, she clenched her hands together to stop herself from trying to rip his head off. It was surprising how satisfying that mental image was. But she was pretty sure killing a Professor wouldn't go over very well with Dumbledore. To calm herself, she tried to remind herself of a decision she had made while she had been alone; if she had no choice but to be part monster, she would at least _try_ to avoid acting like one. Though Snape was making that conviction more difficult than it should be.

"Fine," she managed to hiss out between clenched teeth.

Satisfied with his victory, Snape released his grip on her sleeve and opened the door, leading the way through the castle. Her anger slipped away as they moved through the many corridors. It was difficult to stay mad when there were so many fascinating details to take in. Afraid that she might miss something, her head moved from side to side with each step. When they reached the moving stairwells, Snape glanced over his shoulder to see her peering over the railing, her eyes bright with curiosity. He was secretly pleased to see that at least one of the characteristics of the old Hermione had survived. They had remained in a blissfully mutual silence until they reached the dungeons. The moment Hermione stepped off the bottom of the stairwell, she stopped walking.

"Oh very funny," she muttered in a sarcastic tone. Snape turned and rose an eyebrow. "A dungeon for a vampire. How original."

"Half-vampire," he corrected. "And it's not a joke. You will be residing with me in the dungeons from now on."

She eyed his bat like appearance with a small smirk. "You stay in the dungeons?" She didn't sound at all surprised.

"Yes," he replied slowly, continuing down the corridor. "It's not my preference. All Slytherins reside in the dungeons."

Picking up her pace so she could catch up with him, she asked, "What's a Slytherin?"

"It's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. You are in Gryffindor."

"If I'm not a Slytherin, why do I have to be in the dungeons?" she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Did you miss the part about being under my care, Miss Granger?" He hissed. Surprisingly, for once she didn't have a response. He assumed it was because she realized that no smarmy comment would change the situation. Content with the silence, Snape led her to an out of the way corridor and stopped in front of a portrait of a flower garden being devoured by snakes. Hermione watched the elegant patterns the snakes made as they slithered through the garden, choosing which flowers to consume. She wished she could stand there and examine the portrait closer, but Snape had other plans. "Acromantula."

The portrait accepted the password and swung open. She followed him inside and found herself in very dim but surprisingly warm room. Snape waved his wand at the fireplace and bright red flames sprung up from the wood at the bottom, lighting up the room. There were two leather chairs and a leather sofa near the fireplace. Behind the seats in one of the corners was a large wooden desk with parchment, quills, and ink bottles spread out over the top if it. And near the desk was a thin, long table with a few small cauldrons bubbling. There was a dark green and silver rug covering the stone floor, and crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"This is the sitting room." Snape indicated the room around them. Then he pointed to the only other door leading from the main room. "That is the bedroom. You can access the bathroom through there."

Hermione walked up to the bedroom door and opened it, stepping inside. The room was made out of the same dark stone as the sitting room. There was another fireplace on the side and two large beds separated by about three feet of space. Near each bed were identical dressers and wardrobes. She stared at the beds for a moment before she realized that they meant.

"We're sharing a bedroom?" she groaned.

"We have to."

Something about the slow, quiet way he said spoke made her turn to face him with a curious expression. "What do you mean?"

"There is a lot more to your ... situation than what was explained earlier." Turning on his heel, he motioned for her to follow him back to the sitting room. They sat down on the chairs by the fireplace, conveniently placing themselves opposite each other. Neither one of them wanted to be closer than was absolutely necessary. "I was going to explain the rest earlier before you threw us out."

"I needed time to think."

"No, you needed time to act like the victim," he snapped. "Which is a characteristic you didn't seem to have until quite recently. And I won't tolerate a repeat performance."

She opened her mouth but then quickly shut it again. She wanted to argue, to tell him where he could shove that tolerance. But she held her tongue. Though she hated to admit it, he had a point. Whether she liked it or not, she had lost half of her humanity. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner she could adjust. Snape rose an eye brow, waiting to see if she would snap back. Deciding to not give him the satisfaction of of a response, she decided to ask a question instead. "In the infirmary you said that I can't convert others because my ... venom acts differently. Why is mine different from born half-vampires?"

He gazed at her thoughtfully. "The body of a born one was prepared in the womb to support two life systems, the human and the vampiric. Yours was not. Couple that with the vastly weaker venom that the born ones produce, and there isn't much left your body can do with it."

"Why don't I remember any of this information? Did we not learn it in our classes?"

"No." Snape sat back in the chair, watching her reactions carefully. "Very little is known about the born half-vampires, and even less about the converted ones. It isn't exactly common for a human to mate with a vampire in the first place, let alone carry their child. That and the Ministry has laws about them. If they fail to learn how to blend in with society safely, they will be ... removed." Seeing her stiffen as his words, he felt it was best to clarify. "The point is for humans, magical or muggle, to have little to no knowledge of their existence. The last thing the Ministry wants if for vampires to realize they can mass breed."

Hermione nodded lightly. His explanation made sense except ... She studied him carefully. "If that's true, then why do you know so much about it?"

Snape eyes drifted to the fireplace. She was sure he intended it to look casual, but she got the impression he was avoiding her eyes for a reason. "I met a convert years ago during the first war."

Hermione frowned. "War?"

Snape looked over at her again. It was so easy for him to forget just how little she had retained from before the attack. Which made the fact that had she recognized him earlier even more disturbing. But he would have to shelf that thought for later; right now it was more important to ensure she learned about her condition. Leaning forward, he spent some time giving her a short summary of the first war, Lord Voldemort's fall, and the clear evidence that a second war was just starting to break out. Though his explanation sounded thorough, Hermione got the feeling that he was editing out some of the information.

As he finished, something clicked in her head, like a memory returning. "You were a Death Eater?"

"Yes," he replied slowly.

"Are you still?"

He sat quiet still and narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe, maybe not. That's not your concern." Before she could try to ask any more uncomfortable questions, he brought the conversation back on track. "Morgan, the other convert, was a Death Eater contact at the time. And don't bother asking for what, because I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione gazed into the fire. If she was under Snape's care ... "Did she have someone looking after her too?"

"No." Before she could protest, he added, "She had only recently transitioned and didn't know anything about her situation when we met. She didn't know anyone who could teach her how to handle her new life."

"So that is why you know so much about it. You learned how to handle her." It wasn't a question. She knew her assumption was correct by the look on his face.

Snape reluctantly nodded. "I had no choice. The Dark Lord had put us on assignment together. If I hadn't of taken the time to figure out how to manage her, I would be dead. There were a lot of ... mistakes that took place during that time, but eventually I figured it out."

She was almost tempted to ask what he meant by 'mistakes' but decided against it. She wanted to keep the conversation civil for as long as possible. It was harder to hate him this way. "What happened to her after the war?"

"I don't know." His gaze conveniently moved to the fireplace again. "She decided she didn't need someone to help her anymore and took off. She was wrong, of course. Being left to her own devices she was driven insane and disappeared before anyone could stop her. She covered her tracks so well, even the Ministry couldn't locate her."

Hermione froze. "Driven insane?"

Folding his hands together, he leaned forward. They had finally reached the part of the conversation he had been waiting for. His sudden harsh glare practically pierced her to the chair. "This was what I wanted to explain earlier. And pay attention because it is vitally important!" She nodded but remained silent. "Just because your venom isn't poisonous, doesn't mean you aren't a danger to those around you. Your body will now forever be at war with itself, the human half trying to suppress the vampiric, and the vampiric trying to suppress the human. The only way to keep your two systems under control is to feed both of them."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "As in ... blood and food?"

Snape nodded. "Your desire for blood will either decrease or increase depending on your level of stress, exhaustion, extreme emotions, if you experience blood loss, or how much food you have been eating. The less food you consume, the stronger the blood desire will become because the vampiric side with try to take over more of your body to sustain itself. The cravings can hit rather quickly, so when you start to feel the desire, I would advise against wasting time attempting to analyze your state of mind or recalling when you last ate. You will need to feed as quickly as possible before the desire increases. The stronger your desire, the less control you have over yourself, and I don't just mean your control over your cravings."

She felt anger stirring inside again. He kept talking about how dangerous she apparently was. But she didn't think Dumbledore would be dim enough to let her stay at Hogwarts if she was really that big of risk. "And how, exactly, am I suppose to feed at Hogwarts? I can't just walk up to a random student and jump them," she sneered.

Despite the nature of the conversation, Snape smirked. "Of course not. There are rules that need to be followed in regards to your feeds."

"Of course there are." She rolled her eyes.

"Funny, I always thought you enjoyed following the rules."

"Then I must have been crazy. Rules are boring," she countered.

Snape studied her for a moment. He never thought he would ever hear the words 'rules are boring' come out of Hermione's mouth. "That as it may be," he continued sternly, "you will follow these rules perfectly or I will personally hand you over to the Ministry myself." Hermione glared at him. "And before you get on your high horse, Miss Granger, these are not rules that I have created for you. These are important components to your continued state of sanity and are required if you expect the Ministry to let you live."

She knew he was right, but she really hated admitting it. Sighing, she lowered her gaze. "Fine."

Satisfied that she had finally backed own, he continued. "Your blood source must be from a human. Animal blood will do nothing for you. Secondly, your source needs to be fresh from the vein. It cannot be stored and used later. Doing so will poison you."

"And who, exactly, do you expect to volunteer to be my 'blood source', _Professor_," she sneered. "I can't imagine people would be lining up to help me."

He held her gaze for a moment. "I will be your source."

Hermione stared at him. He was expecting her to scream, throw something at him, anything. But she sat in silence. Then she surprised him when she suddenly broke out laughing. "For a second there I thought you were serious." When she noticed his lack of amusement, she froze. "You're serious?"

"That is why we need to share a bedroom." He tried to keep her gaze, but he could tell he was losing her again, just like in the infirmary. He could feel the tension building in the room. "Often times blood cravings will rise during the night when your body is finally getting a chance to relax and process the day. It is important that I be near when they strike."

She shifted in her seat, avoiding his eyes as she finally choking out, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows how," he said gravely. "And I would really rather not watch another convert go insane. It isn't a ... pleasant process." Unable to handle anymore, Hermione jumped to her feet and strode towards the exit. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Air," was all she managed to say before she dashed out of the room and the portrait slammed closed behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

* * *

><p>As soon as the portrait closed behind her, Snape let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. The aura that had poured off of her had made the air very thick. But now that she wasn't in the sitting room anymore, the atmosphere had gotten much lighter. Groaning lightly, he rested his head in his hands. How was he supposed to survive living with her for the year when during their short time together tonight she had already been successful at giving him a terrible migraine?<p>

As he rubbed his temples, the fireplace suddenly turned bright green and the headmaster stepped into the room. "I see that went well."

"I should have known you'd be listening," Snape mumbled, annoyed with the amusement in the headmaster's voice. Appearing to have ignored Snape's comment entirely, he crossed to the chair Hermione had been occupying moments ago and made himself comfortable. Snape expected him to continue talking, but he merely sat there, studying him. The silence was almost painful. "What?" Snape snapped.

"You could have used a little more ... patient with her, Severus."

Sneering, Snape tore his eyes away from Dumbledore's face and turned to the fire. "I shouldn't have had to be patient. She needed to know. Besides, she doesn't even remember what it is to live a normal life."

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore said softly. "She does have enough of her sensibilities to understand that what she has to deal with isn't natural." Silence fell upon them again. Dumbledore continued to watch Snape with an almost fatherly expression. "Severus, I know this isn't easy for you-"

"No you don't!" Snape snapped. There were many things about Dumbledore that frustrated him over the years. But the most irritating of them all was how he seemed to be completely unphased when he lost his temper with the old man. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself before continuing. "You always expect too much of people."

Dumbledore peered over his glasses, choosing his words carefully. "I do not expect anything above what I know can be accomplished."

Unable to stay calm anymore, Snape shot Dumbledore a nasty glare before standing and crossing the room. He had a sudden desire to be as far away from the headmaster as possible. He stopped in front of the cauldrons and pretended to busy himself with them, hoping Dumbledore would leave if he ignored him for long enough. But the headmaster's gaze continued to burn through him. After a few minutes, Snape sighed and turned to face him again, defeated. "You're wrong, Albus. I can't do this again. I was lucky to have survived what I went through with Morgan."

"Ah, but there is a big difference between Morgan and Miss Granger, Severus. Morgan had very little sense or will even before her transition; that was evident in how easily she gave in to Voldemort. Not to mention, at the time neither you or Morgan knew what handling her would entail."

The headmaster's words gave him no comfort. "It's not the same. You know as well as I do that every convert is effected by the venom differently." Snape turned his back to him again, resting his hands on the table in front of the cauldrons to steady himself. "Each difference in the way the venom consumes the body changes the methods required to keep them under control. It is near impossible for what Morgan needed to be the same as what Granger will require."

Dumbledore studied Snape for a few minutes. Then, deciding it was time, Dumbledore stood up and retrieved a scroll from his pocket. "While Miss Granger was recovering, Madam Pomfrey investigated the effects the venom had on her body." Snape glanced over his shoulder, eying the parchment curiously. "This is a record of her findings. I think you might find it to be a very ... interesting read." Dumbledore stepped up to Snape and handed him the scroll.

Snape hesitated, staring at the scroll. But if there was one thing that he and Hermione had in common, it was curiosity. Sighing, he unrolled the parchment and scanned the notes. He read it twice, sure there was some sort of mistake. According to Madam Pomfrey's observations, Hermione and Morgan's transitions were practically identical. The only difference seemed to be the areas of the brain that had been consumed. Hermione's entire emotional center was infected, while Morgan's subconscious processing center had been most effected. But how was that possible? There was almost no statistical chance that the transition could effect one convert the same way as another. Lowering the parchment, he turned to Dumbledore, lost for words.

"It would seem," Dumbledore continued softly, "that what Miss Granger will require will be more or less exactly what Morgan needed." Snape glanced over the parchment again. While knowing the similarities should have made him feel better, something about it nagged at him. Then it suddenly struck him. Seeing the look on his face, Dumbledore leaned closer and asked the one question Snape didn't want to hear. "Miss Granger's transition hasn't finished yet, has it?"

"No," Snape whispered reluctantly.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Finally snapping out of his trance, Snape rolled the parchment and handed it back to Dumbledore. "No."

* * *

><p>After getting lost a few times, Hermione had finally managed to find her way out of the castle. As she stepped outside, the warm summer wind rushed over her, greeting her like an old friend. She took a deep breath and could already feel herself starting to relax. She wasn't sure what had bothered her more; what Snape had said or the uncontrollable anger she had felt building inside her. Was she always going to be so angry all the time?<p>

Sighing, she walked over the grounds toward the lake she had seen from the infirmary window. Near the lake was a small cluster of trees. Wandering over to them, she sat under the largest tree, her back pressed against the trunk, and looked out over the water. Though the fresh air was helping her to calm down, it wasn't enough to keep her mind off what Snape had said. Morgan hadn't followed the rules and the venom drove her insane. Though Snape had claimed to have no knowledge of what had happened to her after the war, Hermione was sure she knew; the Ministry eventually tracked her down and killed her. But it was more than just Morgan's story that was stuck in her mind. It was also the warning; if she failed to follow the rules, they were going to kill her too.

She stayed there, watching the still waters of the lake for quite some time. As she sat there, she realized that Snape was right; she hadn't really meant it when she'd said he should have let her die. Yes, surviving the attack was proving to make life difficult but the idea of death scared her. Looking back at the castle, she sighed. With no memory of who she was, she didn't know if she had any friends, or what her relationship with her parents was like. Did she have a boyfriend? What had her career plans been? Hundreds of questions about herself flooded her mind. But there was really only one way to find the answers. She had to take one day at a time and discover who she was. Maybe when the other students returned she would be able to find out from them more about herself. But sitting outside wasn't going to help her. She stood and brushed her robes off, deciding to return to the castle.

She took her time walking through the corridors, examining the castle's many details again. She was amazed by how unexpectedly beautiful it all was and it made her wonder if she had taken the time to appreciate the castle like this before the attack. Eventually, her travels led her back down to the dungeons and straight to the portrait. She watched the snakes slither around the flowers, suddenly feeling rather hesitant to enter the sitting room. If she said the password, she would come face to face with Snape again. She wasn't looking forward to him impending lecture about acting like a victim again. But she knew she couldn't stay out in the corridor forever. Sighing, she said the password and stepped inside.

She expected to hear his dark voice snap at her the moment she walked in, but he wasn't in the room. Thinking he may have already retired to bed, she crossed the room and opened the bedroom door just enough to peak in, but both beds were empty. Content to be alone for a while longer, she walked over to the wardrobe next to the bed closest to the door. Grabbing the handle, she pulled it open. Inside were several black robes, black jackets and matching trouser, and white dress shirts. Sitting at the bottom of the wardrobe were a few pairs of identical black boots. It was Snape's wardrobe.

"Something of interest in there, Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped. Did he like sneaking up on people? Turning toward him, she closed the wardrobe. He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Surprisingly, he didn't seem upset. In fact, his expression was rather blank, which almost frightened her more.

"I was just trying to figure out which bed was mine."

"The one furthest from the door."

"What," Hermione chuckled, "afraid I might slip off at night to feed on a sleeping student?"

Almost instantly she wished she hadn't said that. His expression suddenly turned very dark and his eyes narrowed. Expecting him to blow up at her, she was shocked when he merely turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him. In the silence that followed she realized that that was _exactly_ the reason for her bed being between his and the door.

A little rattled, she urned away from the door and she walked to the bathroom. Flicking her wand to light the torch on the wall, she stood in front of the mirror. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting to see, since she didn't remember what she had looked like in the first place. But she was somehow still surprised at the person she saw looking back at her. Her skin was pale, but slightly luminescent. Her brown hair trailed midway down her back in soft, beachy waves, and in the right light she could see a sheen of dark red running through it. But it wasn't either of those features that interested her. It was her deep purple eyes that caught her attention. The color was so dark that most people wouldn't even notice they were purple unless they gazed right into them. But she was sure the if anyone were to come close enough to notice, there would be more issues at hand than her eye color. She was about to leave the bathroom when curiosity struck. Leaning closer to the mirror, she parted her lips and examined the four small fanged teeth at the front of her jaw. Though she was pleased that they were much smaller than she had expected, she knew she would have to work on a concealment charm before the students arrived next week. No reason to call attention to her ... condition.

Sighing, she put out the torch and stepped out of the bathroom. Her mind was suddenly filled with so many more questions about her conversion that she felt like her brain might burst. But, deciding she would rather not interact with Snape again for the rest of the night, she did her best to push those thoughts aside as she changed into the pajamas she found in the dresser next to her bed. Feeling rather comfortable in the fluffy material, she slipped under the covers and tired to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>She was absolutely infuriating! Snape cast a silencing charm on the sitting room so Hermione couldn't hear what was happening before grabbing the chair at his desk and whipping it across the room. Did she think this was all some kind of joke? She clearly had no concept of how dangerous she was and her lack of acceptance was almost too much for him to handle. If she didn't start facing the reality of her situation soon, she could very well kill him in his sleep and not even know what she had done.<p>

He was furious with her. He was furious with Dumbledore. But he was even more furious with himself. Why was he letting this happen all over again? He could have very easily turned down Dumbledore's request and delivered her to the Ministry. He knew how dangerous she was going to be, even before reading Madam Pomfrey's notes. So why _didn't_ he?

Throwing himself into one of the chairs by the fireplace, he folded over and rested his head in his hands. He already knew why. Handing Hermione over to the Ministry would have put them in an incredibly powerful position, especially with what Lord Voldemort had planned for the Ministry in the near future. And the last thing he wanted was to see a converted half-vampire in Lord Voldemort's hands. She would become his most powerful weapon. Just the thought of seeing Hermione, eyes the color of blood, tearing through anyone who crossed her path made his stomach turn.

But, with her in his care, what if he failed? What if he wasn't able to keep her under control? What if she, like Morgan, turned away from his guidance and rebelled? The whole school would be slaughtered. No, he realized there is no option for failure. If he failed, he would have no choice but to contact _her_ ... If he failed, Hermione would have to die.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

* * *

><p>Hermione jolted awake. Grasping for breath and covered in sweat, she could barely remember where she was. As the panic started to subside and her breathing began to settle, she started to recognize the bedroom she and Snape shared. Blinking tears from her eyes, she realized that the room was filled with daylight. But how was that possible? She was in the dungeons after all, where there weren't any windows. Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the ceiling. Instead of seeing dark stone, she saw a bright blue morning sky. Giving into a small smile, she took a deep breath and willed her muscles to relax as she watched the clouds slowly move across the enchanted ceiling.<p>

It had just been a dream. None of it had been real. But it had all _felt_ so real. The pain had been so excruciating she thought for sure she was dying. But as each second passed, the memory of it started to fade away. She was suddenly very grateful that most dreams slip away from the conscious mind.

Stretching, she rolled onto her side and looked over at Snape's bed. He was asleep, his body turned away from her. She shouldn't have been all that surprised that he was still asleep. She herself hadn't gotten to bed until nearly 4:00 a.m. and she had no idea when he had finally turned in. Sitting up slowly, she took the opportunity to examine him while he couldn't snap at her for it. He was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and she could only assume he had a matching pair of black trousers on under the blanket. The fact that he had white dress shirts in his wardrobe seemed odd considering his obvious preference for black.

Content to ensure he stayed asleep as long as possible, she quietly slipped out of bed and crept over to the wardrobe near by. On the side of it was a small enchanted calendar, designed to mark off each passing day on it's own. Seeing as the term wouldn't start for another week, she ignored the wardrobe and walked over to the dresser next to it. She knew based on what she had seen in Snape's wardrobe that her own would only contain her Hogwarts robes and uniform. She opened the top drawer and selected fresh undergarments, then searched the rest of the drawers for something to wear. She found herself rather disappointed in the selection available. Had this really been her preference for clothing before she lost her memories? It was all so generic and bland. Sighing, she grabbed a pair of dark blue shorts and a pale orange t-shirt. She would have to do something about those clothes in the near future. Closing the drawers quietly, she moved to the bathroom and locked the door.

The bathroom ceiling was also enchanted, illuminating the room with the peaceful morning light. Assuming that during her stay in the infirmary she hadn't received much more than basic hygienic care, she stripped off her pajamas and ran a bath. The warm water was just what she needed to relax after the tension from her nightmare. She gave herself a thorough scrubbing before stepping out and drying off. She slipped her clothes on and then stared in the mirror. The beachy waves from yesterday were nice, but she decided to change it up a little today. Now that she was no longer comatose, she had every right to alter her appearance. Grabbing her wand, she swished it through the air in a calculated pattern before tapping her head and smiled as she watch her hair fall perfectly straight down her back. Satisfied, she picked up the discarded pajamas and opened the door.

She stopped in the doorway, breath catching in her throat when she spotted Snape standing at the other side of the room. He had already changed into his boots, trousers, and dress shirt. She had hoped he would still be asleep so she could have slipped out of the dormitory without his knowledge. Gathering her confidence, she stepped into the room and crossed to her bed so she could put her pajamas under the pillow. Barely glancing in her direction, Snape lifted his jacket from the side of his bed and slipped his arms through the sleeves, pulling the front flaps together and swiftly fastened the buttons. She was suddenly glad she had taken her time in the bathroom; if she had been any quicker she would have walked in on him changing. Shivering at that thought, she fluffed the pillow and adjusted it several times.

Suddenly feeling his eyes on her, she swiftly dropped the pillow and glared. "What?"

Snape had his arms crossed and his back against the wardrobe. He had watched her fuss over the pillow and had to stop himself from laughing. He didn't want to make light of her situation, but watching her act like a twitchy bug did hold a certain amount of amusement. But even the humor of it wasn't enough to smother his concern. An unsettled convert could turn bad very fast. He gazed into her eyes, examining the color so he would know if he was already treading on thin ice. Noting that they were soft purple, he decided to take a chance with the topic of conversation.

"What was the dream about?"

She stiffened. How did he know about the nightmare? Hadn't he been asleep when she got up? Then it struck her; he had been awake the whole time and merely pretended he had been sleeping. "I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped defensively. When his eyes narrowed, she tore her gaze away and strode towards the door to the sitting room. She didn't want to talk about the dream to anyone, let alone him. As she reached for the handle, Snape's arm came down next to her shoulder, holding the door closed. She jumped at the sudden movement, but refused to look at him.

"You're a bad liar," he whispered calmly.

"Ever heard of minding your own business?" she growled.

"Privacy isn't a luxury you can afford anymore." He grabbed her arm and tugged, turning her around to face him. "What was the dream about?"

She was a little surprised at his persistence. He had been frustrated with her yesterday, but he had tried very hard to keep a certain distance between them and tread cautiously. Now it felt almost like he was trying to egg her on. Standing up straight, she thrust her hands at his chest, shoving him back. "I don't need to answer to you. I know the rules. And last I checked, _Professor_, none of those rules included spilling my heart and soul to you."

If he had closed his eyes, he was sure he would have almost mistaken her for Morgan. He was tempted to keep her cornered until she gave in, but decided against it. Dumbledore had been right; handling Hermione would be both the easiest and hardest experience of his life. Lifting his hands in surrender, he backed off. She didn't move right away, thinking he was trying to physic her out. But when he merely lowered his hands, placing them behind his back and waited, she grabbed the handle and threw the door open.

"Granger," she froze, one foot in the main room. "One way or another, you will tell me. You won't be able to keep your little secrets for long."

Shivering at his words, she ran through the sitting room, throwing the portrait open, and sprinted down the corridor. When she was finally out of the dungeons, she stopped and leaned against a suit of armor while she tried to catch her breath. And then she realized her mistake; she had let him win. He knew she wasn't going to tell him, and she walked right into his trap. She was starting to see why Dumbledore found Snape to be so useful; he knew how to play the game. Now her only options were to give in or learn how to play the game too. Rubbing her forehead, she groaned. At least she didn't have the memories of her old life to compare too, or this would surely be the worst day of her life.

She decided to wander the halls for a while, trying to develop a mental map of the castle so she could avoid getting lost again. But eventually she realized she was quite hungry and abandoned her exploration in favor of the Great Hall. She knew where it was as she had stumbled upon it last night when she had been trying to find her way outside.

As she entered the Hall, she looked up at the staff table at the far end of the room. Seated at the table were Dumbledore and the stern woman she had seen in the infirmary last night, as well as three other professors she didn't recognize. The woman a few seats down on Dumbledore's left had large round glasses, frizzy hair, and several decorative scarves around her neck. On the other side of the headmaster was a very short wizard and a huge grizzly looking man. The contrast in their size amused her.

Thankful that Snape wasn't in the room, she sat down at one of the four tables and filled her plate with toast, eggs, and a blueberry muffin. There were a few other students in the Hall as well, scattered among the room. They must have been the other students who had been assisting the staff over the last few weeks. Scanning the room as she nibbled on some toast, she tried to see if there was a noticeable pattern in the headmaster's decision for who he had selected. But she couldn't find any similarities, not even in age.

Just as she was about to start buttering another piece of toast, she saw movement at the staff table. Glancing up, she watched Snape slip into the empty chair on Dumbledore's left. She kept her gaze on him until he glanced up and caught her eye. Feeling a flush of embarrassment, she swiftly lowered her gaze back to her toast. She was silently frustrated with herself; she didn't want to give him the impression that his little trick earlier had bothered her. Once she had sufficiently smothered her toast in butter, she chanced a quick glance at the staff table only to find him still watching her. But this time, as soon as their eyes met, he had been the one to look away. Confused, she watched him leaned toward Dumbledore and whispered something in the headmaster's ear.

But her curiosity was suddenly crushed as someone loudly flopped down in the seat next her her. Startled, she spun her head around to see a young man with short dark hair and boyish cheeks. Oddly, he was smiling at her.

"Morning, Hermione! It's good to finally see you out of the infirmary." _Oh no_, she thought. She had forgotten to cast a concealment charm on her teeth this morning. And she hadn't even had time to think of a good lie about why she had been in the infirmary for the past several weeks. Her brain froze as she watched the boy load food on to his plate. What was she supposed to do? "Was getting worried about you," he continued, completely oblivious of her mental struggle. "I mean, Professor McGonagall had said it was just a bad bump to the head from a fall, but you were out for a long time. What did you really do, run head first into a Centaur or something?"

She stared at him. He didn't even realize he had just feed her the perfect alibi. "Not that I know of. But who knows? I don't really remember anything ... from the accident," she added hastily.

"You got off lucky then, I guess." The boy buttered his own slice of toast as he continued. "A lot of people who take such bad blows to the head end up with Amnesia." Lifting the toast to his mouth, he finally looked up at her for the first time since he had thrown himself down on the bench. But he didn't take a bite; instead he let the toast hover by his lips as he stared at her. His brows creased as he scanned her face before settling his gaze on her eyes.

Her heart jumped into her throat as he stared at her. Swallowing, she quickly turned back to her own breakfast and started spearing eggs with her fork. Why was she being so paranoid? Snape had said that knowledge of converts was so rare that there was no way this boy would be able to figure it out. "Guess I am lucky then," she replied, forcing herself to sound calm.

He watched her for another minute before finally biting into his toast. Taking in a slow breath, she glanced at him again. He was staring at his plate with a small smile on his lips. He silently chewed on his mouth full of toast, then shook his head and chuckled as he looked at her again. "Professor McGonagall is the woman sitting next to Professor Dumbledore. And you're a bad liar, Hermione." He grinned at her frustrated expression. "Might want to practice your poker face a bit before next week."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Still grinning, the boy placed his toast down on the table and turned his whole body toward her. "Okay then, what's my name?" When all she could do was glare at him, he laughed. "Relax, Hermione. I'm not going to tell anyone about your Amnesia if it matters that much to you. I can help you cover it up, just stop trying to lie to me."

Sighing, she nodded. He was right; having someone on her side would help her avoid getting cornered like this again. "Fine. How did you know?"

"I did an assignment last year on recognizing the different states of memory loss. It specifically talked about the signs found in people who had been Obliviated, but it was pretty easy to see the correlation." The boy shrugged, trying to seem casual, but she could tell he was rather proud of himself. "And my name is Neville, by the way. Neville Longbottom."

His constant smiling had started to become infectious. "Are you in Gryffindor too, Neville?"

"Yeah. Though I am sure most of the students still think I should be in Hufflepuff." Seeing her blank expression, he added, "I don't exactly fit the textbook definition of a Gryffindor."

She suddenly started to feel really out of place. She was sure she had known all about Hogwarts before the attack. But now she felt like a first year student; dim and doe eyed. Frowning, she turned back to her breakfast and poked her food. She didn't really feel that hungry anymore. "Neville, I don't remember anything about Hogwarts. All I know is Slytherins live in the dungeons and Snape is a prat."

Neville coughed, almost spitting out a mouth full of pumpkin juice. After having safely swallowed, he burst into laughter. "Well, it's a good start." Still chuckling, he leaned sideways and slipped his hand into a small bag at his feet. "Ah, there it is." Sitting up straight, he handed her a book titled _Hogwarts, A History_. "Give this a read. It'll tell you everything you need to know about the castle before next week. I tend to be rather forgetful, so I carry it around with me just in case, you know? As for the _people_ in the castle, I can help you with that."

Gesturing toward the staff table, he pointed to the witch with the scarves. "That is Professor Trelawny. She teaches Divination. She really isn't all that good at it, but she's still here, so who am I to argue?"

Hermione's gazed moved over to the middle of the table. Snape and McGonagall seemed to be caught up in an intense conversation. McGonagall was gesturing quite animatedly and Snape seemed rather frustrated. Dumbledore sat calmly between the two, seemingly ignoring the disagreement taking place around him. Their arguments must have been normal, because Neville carried on as if he hadn't seen it.

"You clearly already met Professor Snape. He teaches Potions and is head of Slytherin house. And as I mentioned earlier, that's Professor McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration, is head of Gryffindor, and is Deputy Headmistress."

"So getting on her bad side would mean I am basically screwed?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He paused for a moment to shovel eggs into his mouth. "The short one is Professor Flitwick. He teaches Charms and is head of Ravenclaw. And that is Hagrid. He takes care of the grounds and teaches Care of Magical Creatures."

Hermione studied the staff table as Neville finished devouring his breakfast. She was sure there were plenty of other staff members she still had to learn about, but not much she could do about that when most of them weren't even in the Great Hall. Pushing her plate aside, she smiled at Neville. "Thanks, by the way. You don't really have to cover for me. I should probably just be honest about my memory with everyone anyway."

"I don't mind, Hermione." Pushing his own plate aside, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Being clueless doesn't really suit you. And besides, it will be kind of fun helping you trick everyone. I'm normally left out of all the good games."

Hermione stared at him. She could see just by looking into his eyes that Neville really was just a good natured, kind hearted young man. The longer she sat there with him, the worse she started to feel. The poor boy didn't even know that she was tricking him too. Was that what her life was going to be about now? Lying to everyone around her? Trying to push her dark thoughts aside, she rested her own hand over his and squeezed. "Thank you, Neville."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe.  
><em>

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><p>Since it was Sunday, they weren't required to assist the Professors. So instead Neville took Hermione on a full tour of the castle, starting from the highest towers accessible to students. He seemed to really enjoy taking on the role as her guide to all things Hogwarts. It was obvious to her that the other students didn't give Neville much opportunity to prove his worth, but she could tell that there was more to him than met the eye. What fascinated her most about him was how he hadn't questioned her appearance. He had looked right into her eyes at breakfast and probably even saw her fangs a few times, yet he remained silent about it all. Had he really not noticed or was he just content with letting her have her secrets?<p>

The morning flew by as they traveled through the corridors. As they walked, Neville also tried his best to explain the events that had happened at Hogwarts since their first year. Though he had warned her ahead of time that he didn't have all the information, he did his best with what he did know. As she listening to his stories, she found it hard to believe that she couldn't remember any of it, especially the events from just two months ago in the Ministry of Magic. But the most puzzling thing about what she heard was how willing they had all been to be involved in so many crazy situations. Did having the heart of a Gryffindor make you blind to certain death?

The only hiccup in the tour had been when they passed by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Neville had walked right by it without giving any explanation, but something about the portrait caught Hermione's attention. She could tell that there was something behind it, though she didn't know whether it had been due to intuition or a memory. When she had asked Neville about it, a strange expression crossed his face.

"That's the entrance to the Gryffindor common room." He raised an eyebrow curiously. "You were released from the infirmary last night, right?"

"Yes, but I didn't come to Gryffindor tower." She regretted her answer the moment the words were out of her mouth. Neville stared at her blankly, making her stiffen. She had expected him to suddenly start bombarding her with questions she wasn't allowed to answer. But, surprisingly, after a minute he merely shrugged and continued down the corridor. Baffled, she sprinted to catch up with him. She guessed hereally _was _content to let her have her secrets.

The rest of the tour continued without any other slip ups. She even let him take her through the dungeons, pretending she had never seen them before. She noticed that she was much better at lying when he kept her mouth shut. They completed the tour with an overview of the castle grounds, including Hagrid's hut and the green houses. It was at the green houses that she picked up on Neville's true passion; herbology. There was something almost beautiful about the way he gently stroked the leaves of the plants he had been assisting Sprout with over the past several weeks. She could suddenly picture him a few years older, clad in dark robes and standing at the end of the green house, teaching the students the importance of caring for venomous ivy buds with proper protection.

Upon leaving the green houses, she started to feel a little strange. Neville walked a little ahead of her, happily rambling on about future herbology projects he had planned, so he didn't notice her stop and gently rub her abdomen to try to settle the mild cramps that had sprung up. Once he noticed her absence from the conversation, he paused and looked over his shoulder. When she caught him watching, she quickly let her arm drop to her side.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm just getting a bit hungry."

"No wonder!" he exclaimed after glancing at his watch. "It's a little past noon. Sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to take so long."

"It's okay." Forcing a small smile through the pain, she strode forward to join him again. "It was fun. And after the night I had, I really needed this." When he rose a questioning eye brow, she waved dismissively. "Long story."

There was something strange in the way he gazed at her. It gave her the uncomfortable impression that he knew something he wasn't supposed to. And the longer he stared at her, the more vulnerable she began to feel. "I'll bet," he muttered. When she shifted uncomfortably, he shook his head lightly and changed the subject. "Lets go to Hogsmead for lunch. The food in the Great Hall is fantastic, but since you don't remember the angelic taste of butterbeer, it is my duty to reintroduce you."

Laughing at her confused expression, he stepped forward, striding toward the gates on the edge of the grounds. With his back once again turned, Hermione wrapped an arm around her belly and groaned. Hoping that the walk would bring her some relief, she followed him through the gates and down the path to Hogsmead Village. Once they reached the village, Neville jumped back into his role as tour guide, pointing out all the shops as they passed by. She tried her best to give him her full attention, but the cramps had gotten stronger, making it difficult to concentrate. However, she did take note of the few clothing stores in the village for later.

By the time they arrived at the Three Broomsticks, she feared she would drop to the floor at any minute. But she tried her best to hide the pain from Neville as she offered to find them a table while he ordered the meals. Though she could see the concern in his eyes, he agreed and turned to the counter. Looking around, she spied a small, empty table in the back corner and sprinted over, throwing herself down on the chair. Curling forward, she folded her arms over the table and pressed her forehead into them, breathing deeply. She had never experienced hunger pains to this degree.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her head shot up as Neville placed the trays of food on the table in front of her. She had been so distracted that she hadn't even heard him approaching.

"I'm fine. _Really_," she added at his skeptical gaze. "I just need to eat." Frowning slightly, he gently pushed a tray of food toward her and pulled out the other chair, sitting across the table. The food looked amazing; a seasoned baked potato, Sheppard's pie, a small salad topped with cranberries, and a fresh wholegrain roll. And, of course, in the corner of the tray sat the infamous butterbeer he had mentioned. They eat in silence for a while though Neville kept watching her between mouthfuls. After a few bites, she caught his eye and sighed. "I'm fine. The food it helping." She was being mostly honest with him; the cramps didn't feel as strong anymore. But as the cramps started to fade, in their place was a strange sensation of going numb. After scanning her for a moment longer, Neville gave in and turned his attention to his own meal.

She had gotten half way through the salad when her head started to feel fuzzy. Gently placing her fork on the table, she sat back and tried to concentrate on the feeling. The longer time went on, the more she realized that it couldn't have been hunger pains, or eating would have solved the problem, not progressed it. Glancing up at Neville, she frowned. Even her vision had become a little blurry. Something wasn't right.

"Neville, I think you were right." He glanced up, fork hovering half way to his mouth. "I'm not doing too well. I need to get back to the castle."

"Okay, sure. Just give me a minute to-"

"No, now!"

He jumped and sat back in his chair. She hadn't intended on raising her voice, he hadn't done anything wrong. She would have felt bad for scaring him but it had suddenly clicked. It _had_ been hunger pains, but just not the ones she was used to; she was _craving_. Which meant Neville was in danger. Intending on putting as much distance between them as possible, she scrambled to her feet and she dashed passed the other tables. She slammed her shoulder against the door, throwing it open and hurried down the road. She could hear Neville behind her, rushing to catch up. She tried to run faster, but her symptoms had become so strong that she could barely walk anymore. Skidding to a stop, she leaned against the closest wall, dropped to her knees, and gasped for breath.

She heard Neville rushing loudly toward her. When he finally caught up, he reached out to touch her, but she smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me," she hissed. She meant for it to sound like it was for his protection, but it had sounded more like a threat instead. Somehow unphased, he reached forward again, but stopped when her head shot up and he came eye to eye with her.

She watched the color drain from his face as he stared into her eyes. She was sure he would finally come to his senses and run, but instead he swallowed and merely stepped back a little. "What do you need? I can help you."

Breathing heavily, her vision had started to clear up a little. Was the craving passing? Was that even possible? But as she looked at Neville, she realized that the complete opposite was happening. Her vision was clearing up so she could properly hunt down a victim. Tearing her eyes away from him, she let out a low growl. "Snape ... I need Snape."

Nodding, Neville grabbed his wand and lifted it above his head and yelled "Expecto Patronum!" He barely glanced at his patronus as it rushed toward the castle. He would have time to congratulate himself for finally making a full bodied patronus _after_ Hermione had been looked after. Stepping forward, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Get moving," he snapped, cutting off her protest. "You can yell at me later. Right now, you need help."

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><p>McGonagall really irritated Snape sometimes. He had barely been seated at the staff table for longer than a few minutes before she had started in on him about Hermione. She had been frustrated with Dumbledore's decision to place Hermione under his care and turned what should have been a calm breakfast into an interrogation. She hadn't questioned his knowledge of how to handle converts; she had questioned his ability to look after one of <em>her<em> students without causing any lasting damage. He would have laughed at her if her accusations hadn't been so ridiculous. If anyone ran the risk of coming out of the situation damaged, it was him.

As soon as he had finished eating, he had escaped the Great Hall as swiftly as his feet could carry him. As annoyed as he had been at her, McGonagall had brought up a good question at the end of her verbal lashing. Why had the half-vampires been in the Forest in the first place? They had always been very solitary creatures, preferring to live a life of seclusion or hide among the rest of society. In the past, if they had ever encountered another of their kind, it wouldn't take long before they would engage in vicious battle that only one of them would be able to walk away from. So what made them stop fighting now? Why had so many of them banded together? And why had they traveled to the Forbidden Forest?

Whatever their reason, they weren't in the Forest anymore. The day after the attack, Snape had returned to the Forest to search for them. But they had been sufficiently scared off the previous day when he had jumped in to save Hermione. To add more fuel to the mystery, he hadn't even had a chance to cast a spell before they had retreated; the mere sight of him had scared them senseless. But why? It was ten against one. None of it made any sense.

Then there was also the strangeness of the attack itself. Hermione, someone with an incredible amount of common sense, had somehow decided to wander deep into the Forest alone. What could possibly have been the logic behind that decision? Snape paused just outside his office door, one hand resting on the handle. Had it even been a conscious decision? Could Hermione have been put under a spell that overrode her judgment and led her straight to them? But what purpose could that have served?

Frowning, he pulled the door open and crossed to the desk. Sitting down, he waved his wand and several books and scrolls lifted from a near by shelf, landing on the corner of his desk. He grabbed the book on the top of the pile and flipped it open to page 482. He had lost track of how many times in the last several weeks he had read the same books and reviewed the same notes, and yet he was no closer to the answers today as he was the day of Hermione's attack. The easy way would be to just blame the whole thing on Lord Voldemort, but something about the situation didn't feel like the Dark Lord's work.

Sighing, he settled in to go over his research again. The hours flew by as he moved from the pile of books to the collection of scrolls. After completing his scan over the final scroll, he tossed it aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was no longer able to tell what was bothering him more; that there might not be any answers to find, or that _he_ may not be the one who is able to find them.

He was about to resign himself to another day of failure when a bright light suddenly filled the office. Squinting and shielding his eyes with one hand, he peered through the light to see a wispy, silver mongoose. He barely had time to recognize it as a patronus before the familiar voice of Neville filled the room.

"Hermione needs you!"

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<br>** - flamethrowerqueen: Thank you! I am glad that some of Hermione's changes feels odd; it's **supposed to** feel odd :) There will be more about that later in the story._

_ - worrywart: I am really glad you are enjoying it! You'll be happy to know that the history between Severus and Morgan is not the only mystery that takes place in the story, but it is definitely one of the biggest. I really like that you pointing out the difference between 'common room' and 'sitting room'. It honestly hadn't occured to me but I completely agree. I will edit that in the chapters already posted._

_Thank you all so much for reading! I am having a lot of fun with this story line, so I hope you all keep enjoying it too!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>Snape was out of his chair and through the office door before Neville's patronus had even moved. A few seconds later the mongoose had caught up and floated passed him, leading the way. The only thing on his mind was getting to them before Hermione could turn on Neville. The amount of emotional trauma that would come with attacking Neville could very well shatter her sanity, which was a risk he wasn't willing to take. He followed the patronus through the dungeons and into the main entrance, expecting it to lead him towards Gryffindor tower. Instead it traveled straight through the front doors, disappearing from sight. A minor cramp had developed in his side from running, but he refused to slow down. Ignoring the pain, he moved toward the doors, which flew open of their own accord as he drew near. It was there in the courtyard that he saw them.<p>

Sweat ran down Neville's face as he practically dragged Hermione toward the castle. She was deathly pale and her whole body shook from the effort of withholding her desire. His strength exhausted, Neville tripped over his own feet and had to lean against the flagstone wall to avoid falling. Unfortunately his grip on Hermione's arm broke and she stumbled forward, dropping to her knees. Wiping his forehead, he sighed with relief when saw Snape striding toward them. For the the first time, Neville was _happy_ to see the Potions Master.

"Pr-professor!"

Snape bent down next to Hermione, who had curled up like a ball on the ground. He placed his hand on her back and could feel heat pouring off of her body. "When did it start?"

Breathing deeply, Neville rested the back of his head against the wall. "Maybe half an hour ago." When Snape shot him a glare, he added, "I don't know, okay! She was trying to hide it from me."

_Of course she was_, he thought bitterly. But he would have to deal with her stupidity later. Reaching forward, he grabbed her shoulder and shifted her position so he could lift her. Once she was securely in his arms, he gave Neville a curt nod and retreated into the castle. He sped passed the Great Hall and slipped into the first empty classroom he could fine. She had barely moved since Neville had let go of her, but once Snape set her down on the classroom floor, she seemed to come to life. Still shaking rather violently, she looked up to see him hastily undoing the buttons around his right wrist.

"No." Her voice was weak, but guttural.

Momentarily distracted, Snape paused and stared at her. Her eyes were pure red. "I'm not giving you a choice," he snapped.

"I can't do this."

To her surprise, he rolled his eyes and continued on with the buttons. Pulling back the sleeve of his jacket and dress shirt, he lowered himself to the floor. He was so close to her that their noses were barely an inch apart. She glanced at his exposed wrist and noticed that a lot of faint, silver markings covered the skin. They almost looked like scars. When he moved his arm closer to her, she recoiled and tore her eyes away. The absolutely longing she felt when she saw the veins in his arm made her feel sick.

Frustrated, Snape grabbed her chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. "Do you _want_ to end up like Morgan?" Even with the undercurrent of the threat, his voice seemed surprisingly soft.

Swallowing, she slowly shook her head. Pulling back so her face slipped from his grasp, she placed a wrapped shaking hand around his wrist. She tried her best to take a deep breath through the pain before bending forward and sinking her fangs into his skin. Snape's body went stiff and his breath hitched as pain shot through his arm. But the pain only lasted a second before the venom kicked in and his brain went numb. The effects of the venom tended to made the victim lose their sense of time, making them believe an eternity was passing by. It had been sixteen years since he had last offered his blood, so he had forgotten how intense the effects could be. Unable to think, he instead tried to focus on taking slow, deep breaths to help stabilize his sense of reality.

The pain in Hermione's body melted away. She felt like she had fallen into a beautiful dream. Warmth swarmed her body and relaxed her rigid muscles. She felt so comfortable that she almost forgot what was happening. But reality quickly set in, turning her happiness into fear and she released his wrist. Breathing deeply, she shifted away until her back hit a wall. She was still trembling slightly from shock and unable to stand, so she stayed on the floor with her back pressed firmly against the wall. Snape also remained on the floor as hewas still quite dazed; it would take a few minutes for the venom to wear off. Since he wouldn't be able to use magic until he recovered, he pulled a handkerchief from one of his pockets and pressed it against the wound to stop the blood. He continued to take deep, even breaths as he waited for his senses to return.

The longer the silence continued, the more uncomfortable Hermione became. She wanted to help him, but even if he would have allowed it, she couldn't bring herself to be near him again. When he finally raised his head, he sought out her eyes and left relieved to find they had returned to a soft, safe purple. But as their eyes met, Hermione's heart started to race. How could he look at her after that? How could he look a _monster_ in the eyes? Unable to handle being in the same room as him any longer, she bounded to her feet and run from the room. Sighing, Snape shifted to rest his back against a near by desk and closed his eyes. _And so it begins_, he thought darkly.

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><p>"Enter," Snape called out in response to the timid knock on his office door.<p>

The door opened slowly and Neville peaked his head into the room, a concerned expression on his soft features. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes," swiftly closing the book on his desk and pushing it aside, Snape gestured toward a chair across the desk. "Take a seat."

Swallowing, Neville moved to the chair and sat down. He was torn between his fear of the man in front of him and his curiosity of the things in the room. Not once in the last five years had he ever made a potion so terrible to warrant a private meeting. And yet, here he was, in Snape's office a week before the start of term. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

Amused at the boy's assumption, Snape shook his head. "I have some questions for you." He watched Neville with a calculating gaze and crossed his arms. "How did you know to bring Miss Granger to me this afternoon?"

Relieved by the question, Neville let out a breath and started to relax a little. "She told me to." When Snape raised an questioning eye brow, he add, "When I asked how I could help, she said she needed to get to you."

"Did she not try to send you away?"

"Oh, she tried. But I didn't listen."

Snape frowned and sat back in his chair. "You weren't at all scared by what was happening or how she was acting?"

A small smile formed on Neville's lips. He seemed rather proud of himself. "Not really, no sir. She needed my help. I wasn't going to abandon her."

Intrigued, Snape observed the young man in front of him. Since the first day Neville had arrived at Hogwarts he had proved to be far from the bravest of Gryffindors. And his skills in the classroom had been clumsy and disorganized at best. While even Snape had to admit that Neville had improved somewhat since the first year, he hadn't expected him to seem so calm in the face of danger. Had it been his experience at the Ministry with Harry and the others that boosted Neville's confidence?

"Have you ever cast a proper patronus before?"

"No, sir." His smile widening, Neville shifted in his seat in an effort to contain his excitement. "Today was a first"

_Interesting_, Snape thought. Going from zero it a hundred in a moment of panic wasn't completely unheard of, but he hadn't though Neville would be capable of that kind of jump. "Producing a full bodied patronus is rather advanced magic, Mr. Longbottom. How did you know you would be successful today?"

"I didn't," pausing to think, Neville's smile slipped into a slight frown. "I just knew I had to do something to warn you, otherwise we might have been too late."

Snape leaned forward and pinned Neville with a stern gaze. "Too late for what?" When Neville merely shrugged and did everything he could to avoid Snape's gaze, something struck him. But there was no way that _Neville_ of all people would ... But the look on the boys face confirmed his suspicions. "You know."

It wasn't a question; it was a fact. Sighing, Neville nodded. "I know. Or well, I sort of know," he clarified. "She didn't tell me, I swear. I figured it out for myself this morning at breakfast." When Snape merely continued to stare at him, Neville carried on. "My family has a really old, really big library. There are a lot of books in there that have been banned, but my Gran said it would be a waste to get rid of books just because the Ministry didn't approve of them. Anyway," Neville hastily moved on, realizing that admitting to having banned material in his home probably hadn't been the best decision. "Sometimes during the summer when I am really bored, I read. Last year I had picked up one of the ... more questionable books and it talked about vampires. It hinted that vampires had more than one way of expanding their ... 'family'."

Though he would never admit it to anyone, Snape found himself to be rather impressed. Using just a small amount of implied information, Neville had been able to arrive at the conclusion that vampires could produce biological kin, and that their children could convert their victims. Had he always had that kind of deductive reasoning, or had Neville just been around Hermione too much lately?

"Did you have an idea of what Miss Granger needed?"

"Not at first, not until I saw her eyes turn red. That's when she told me she needed to get to you. I figured that meant you knew about it too and that you were the one who needed to ..." his voice faded.

Nodding lightly, Snape rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands together. "You did well by her, and I am sure she appreciates it. And I assume you are well aware of the importance of keeping this information quiet."

Neville nodded with such hast it almost made him light headed. "Absolutely."

Content with the boy's answer, he was about to dismiss him, but there was still one question tugging at his mind. "About your patronus, did you actually see it?"

"No, sir. I was too focused on Hermione."

He studied Neville, considering his next words carefully. "It was a mongoose. Do you have any idea what such a symbol means in relation to you?"

Brows creased, Neville lowered his head to think. He couldn't recall ever seeing a real mongoose before, nor had there been anything in his family's history about one. Shrugging, he brought his gaze back up. "No, sir."

He had expected that to be the boy's answer. Nodding, Snape waved toward the office door. "Very well. You are dismissed, Mr. Longbottom."

Smiling lightly, Neville stood and crossed to the door. He felt a bit stunned; he had just finished a rather successful conversation with the one person in the castle who terrified him most. Feeling like he was walking on clouds, before he opened the door he looked over his shoulder. "Professor, can you not tell Hermione that I know? I'm sure it must be difficult for her right now and I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable." Snape inclined his head in agreement and grabbed the book he had pushed aside earlier. "Thanks. Oh, and Professor?"

Sighing, Snape rested his hand on the cover of the book. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"You might want to remind Hermione to put a concealment charm on her fangs. Good day, Professor." Not waiting for a response, Neville slipped out of the office and closed the door quietly behind him.

In the silence that followed, Snape silently admitted to himself that he had underestimated the boy. Despite what everyone else believed, the mongoose represented a true Gryffindor much more than the lion the house had become famous for. For Neville's patronus to be a snake slayer, it had to mean something about him that remained hidden beneath the boy's obvious traits. The more he thought about it, the more he started to see Neville in a different light. What could he eventually be capable of? He would have to speak to Dumbledore about this.

One thing was for sure though, Neville knew _what _Hermione was but he didn't know what being a convert entailed. And Snape intended on keeping it that way. The more people who knew about her situation, the more danger she would be in. Glancing at the clock over the door, he sighed. It had already been three hours since Hermione had disappeared. Though he was slightly concerned, he knew she would eventually have to return to the dormitory. And once she did, they were going to have a little chat.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story! My intent is for it to be a rather long tale, so I hope you are all willing to stick with it._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe.  
><em>

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><p>After leaving the classroom, Hermione had escaped to the Astronomy tower. The winds rushing through the tower were fierce but did little to quiet the misery running rampant through her mind. Last night it had been easy to tell herself that she could remain human, but now she understood how wrong she had been. Now she could see clearly what she was; a monster. She had almost turned on Neville, who out of the goodness of his heart had spent the morning trying to help her rebuild her life. And then there was Snape. She still didn't like him very much but seeing him in such a defenseless state had unsettled her. <em>She<em> had done that to him.

She stood on the edge of the tower, looking out over the grounds. Dark thoughts of throwing herself off the tower swarmed in her mind. Killing herself would make so many things easier; Snape wouldn't have to babysit her and she wouldn't pose a threat to the students anymore. But as much as she felt she deserved to die, she couldn't bring herself to take that fateful step off the ledge. No matter how she felt, death still scared her. But it wasn't the fear that drove her to step back, distancing herself from the ledge. It was picturing Neville's face, devastated at the news of her death. After everything he had done for her, she couldn't bring herself to hurt him like that.

She shivered from the cold she felt inside. Before her feeding, she had felt as if her body had been on fire, but now she felt like her bones were made of ice. The desire she had felt for Neville's blood on the way to the castle had terrified her. Was that fear proof that she could possibly learn how to keep a tighter grasp on what remained of her humanity? Her dark musing slowly stepped aside to make room for a multitude of equally dark questions. Why had Dumbledore let her stay at Hogwarts? Why hadn't Snape enforced that she be delivered to the Ministry instead of being placed under his care? The longer she thought, the more she realized that Snape had hidden more information than he had revealed. Drawing in a shuttering breath, she swept from the tower and slowly descended the stairs. There was only one way she would get the answers she wanted. She had no choice but to face Snape again.

She took her time, gathering her thoughts as she walked the corridors. It would be difficult enough to face Snape in the first place, so she wanted to avoid adding a scrambled brain into the mix. As she approached the portrait, she heard muffled voices drifting through the passage. She paused to listen but couldn't pick out who the voices belonged to. Releasing a long, deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves, she gave the password and stepped into the sitting room.

Snape and Dumbeldore stood in the center of the room. Whatever they had been discussing had been immediately cut off the moment she had entered the room. Both men had turned to look at her, Dumbledore's gaze once again obtaining the unnerving all-seeing-eye feeling. Snape's expression seemed rather blank, though she had seen his body stiffen when the portrait swung open.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore exclaimed, a gentle smile lighting up his face. "I was just about to step out anyway, Severus. Enjoy your evening." He turned his gaze back to Snape, pinning him with a stern gaze. Though Hermione didn't understand the significance of the headmaster's expression, it seemed to speak volumes to Snape, who narrowed his eyes in return. Somehow content with the response he'd received, Dumbledore gave Hermione a slight nod and strolled through the portrait.

Once the portrait closed, Hermione turned her gaze back on the Potions Master. His already tense muscles become even more rigid as their eyes met and his expression hardened. He was _upset_. Had it been his conversation with Dumbledore or the feeding that bothered him? She watched as he crossed to the chairs by the fire.

"Sit."

"I'd rather stand."

"It wasn't a request," he hissed.

Feeling the familiar rise of anger bubbling up at his words, she considered refusing but decided it would be better to save her breath. She would probably need it for the conversation that was about to take place. Keeping her eyes on his, she moved to the opposite chair and sat down. She wasn't sure what it was about him that always fueled her rage, but she felt temporarily grateful for the confidence her anger delivered. Grasping desperately to that confidence, she broke the silence. "Did you tell Dumbledore?"

It was clear from his expression that he had not anticipated the question. "No one got hurt, so there is no reason to inform him."

"I almost killed Neville!" she shot back.

"You almost _bit_ Longbottom. You wouldn't have killed him."

"You don't know that."

He rose an questioning eye brow and crossed his arms. "Actually, I do. But since you seem to think you know more about your situation than I do, then explain to me why you didn't report to me as soon as the craving hit. Did you not remember my instructions from last night to do exactly that or were you too busy playing the victim that you forgot to listen?"

"You're blaming this on _me_?" she sneered, balling her hands into fists.

"I warned you how fast things would escalate."

"I didn't even know how to identify the symptoms! And last I checked, you failed to mention that cravings would hit like the Hogwarts Express!"

Snape refrained from responding to take a steadying breath. He had known their conversation wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't expected her to become so enraged. Her eyes had darkened considerably since the argument had started, so he knew he could only push so much further before she would lose control. He had played with the fine line between human and vampire many times with Morgan and knew how close he could bring her before he had to stop. But what he didn't understand was _why_ she had gotten so close to that edge. Morgan had fought with him plenty of times, but she had a much longer fuse than Hermione seemed to.

But as he thought about it, he remembered that Hermione had already skimmed the fine line between human and vampire twice since waking the previous night. He had first witnessed it when she had kicked him and Dumbledore out of the infirmary, and then again this morning. But like now, her anger in both circumstances didn't quite make sense. What was setting her off? The air around her had started to become thick with the same dark aura that had pulsed from her in the infirmary. Ignoring her blazing glare, he stood and moved the middle of the room so he could think more clearly as he tried to find a connection. Suddenly Madam Pomfrey's notes flashed through his mind and it all made sense. Turning on his heel, he swung around to face her.

"You're unstable."

Hermione sat in silence, momentarily stunned by what she had just heard come out of his mouth. When she recovered, her expression darkened. "I'm _what_?"

"You're unstable," he repeated, watching her carefully in case he had misjudged how much further he could take things. "You've been making catastrophic leaps between your emotions since yesterday. A certain amount of anger is normal for converts, but the speed in which _you_ have gone into a rage is far from usual."

"There is nothing wrong with my emotions," she growled.

"You think so?" Grabbing his wand, he transfigured a empty goblet sitting on the desk behind him into a hand mirror and levitated it to her. "You're eyes don't lie, Miss Granger."

Eying him cautiously, she snatched the mirror out of the air and gazed into it. Expecting to see the same deep purple eyes she had seen this morning, a small gasp escaped her as she was greeted with eyes that were pure black. "What -"

"The emotional center of your brain has been completely contaminated," he interjected. "The anger you have been experiencing isn't your own, it's the venom. And every time you let the vampiric rage take over, it shows in your eyes."

Disgusted with what she saw, she turned the mirror away. Was she only capable of vampiric emotions now? No, that didn't seem right. She had a perfectly normal morning with Neville, free from anger and depression, up until the craving had hit. But even the craving hadn't sent her into a wild rage. "Is there any way for me to control it?"

"Yes," he replied hesitantly. "You'll need to feed more often."

"And how will that help me? I fed today and nothing has changed."

"You can't expect it to be fixed overnight," he snapped. "It will take time." Realizing that his own frustrations would only continue to fuel her anger, he drew in a calming breath. "Your transition started two weeks ago, so you should have had your first feed within the first week. But since you had been unconscious until last night, that hadn't been possible. During your coma, the venom had free reign over your body, consuming anything it wanted with no human resistance." Returning to the chair by the fire, Snape sat back and observed her as he continued. "Now that you are conscious, the venom is battling with your humanity for territorial rights. The harder the two systems clash, the harder you will have to work to sustain them both. Proper sleep and nourishment will give your humanity the strength it needs to fight back, while blood will essentially drug the venom, satisfying it's need for something human to consume. That is why you can't drink animal blood."

Now that the conversation had moved on to a question and answer session, Hermione could feel her anger slipping away. She was finally getting the answers she wanted. The only thing she wasn't sure of was how many questions he would be willing to answer. She brushed a finger against her lips as she took in the new information. "Is there a way to force the venom to retreat? To give up what it has already claimed?"

"No. There is no way to push it back, you can only stabilize it. With time, you _can_ learn how to work with your vampiric instincts by training your remaining humanity how to merge with and distill them. But it will take a lot of dedication and sheer will to accomplish it."

Thinking back to what she had learned the previous night, she frowned. "You said that there is only so much the venom from those who attacked me could do, since a half-vampire's venom is much weaker than a full vampire. If that's true, then why do I need to keep stabilizing it? Wouldn't it just spread as much as it can and then stop?"

A grave expression crossed Snape's face. "No," he said slowly. "Since your body isn't designed to compensate for two life systems, letting the venom spread would eventually kill you."

He had expected her to be shocked, sad even. But he hadn't expected his words to stir up her anger again. "You knew all this when you found me in the Forest." She gripped the arms of the chair so hard that her finger nails dug into the leather. "Why didn't you let me die? Why did you damn me to this life of hell that could very well kill me anyway?"

He sat frozen in his chair. Why had he rescued her? She had been as good as dead when he found her. She had been completely violated by the half-vampire's twisted pleasures. The memory of her decimated body made him feel sick. He hadn't even known if he would be able to save her, and yet, he still tried. Had he done it to try to make up for all the people he hadn't been able to save from Lord Voldemort? No, he knew that wasn't the truth. If he was being honest with himself, he had done it to try to make up for his mistakes with Morgan. She too had been a very intelligent witch with endless potential. But it had all been lost the moment she had turned against him.

Sighing, he gathered his thoughts. He could handle being that honest with himself, but he couldn't handle being that honest with her. But he could tell her _some_ of the truth. "You've always been a rather intelligent witch, Miss Granger. Often times annoying and a little egotistical about your knowledge, but intelligent regardless. You have assisted Potter may times in the last five years, helping him escape dangers that would have surely killed him had he been alone. You are an asset to the war."

He watched as she slowly released her grip on the chairs. So she had been rescued to become a puppet in a war she didn't even remember? Something inside her went cold and she couldn't feel the degree of her rage anymore. With narrowed eyes, a small dark laugh escaped her. "An 'asset'? For who, Dumbledore or Voldemort?" Shaking her head, added, "Never mind, it doesn't matter." Standing, she crossed to the bedroom door. "I will report to you when I need to feed again, but until then, please leave me alone. I need some time to think."

Once he heard the door close behind her, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. She was angry. Very, very angry. But it hadn't been the anger that had poured off of her that had unsettled him; it had been the sickeningly calm way she had excused herself. Sighing, he stood and walked to the desk in the corner. Pulling open the top drawer, he picked up an aged envelop that had his name written on it in gold ink. It had been sixteen years since he spoke with the woman who had sent him the letter contained in the envelop. Throwing the letter back in the drawer, he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. There were many similarities between Hermione and Morgan. But after tonight, Snape realized that Hermione would be even more difficult to handle than Morgan had ever been. He had been lucky to survive Morgan, but it would be an absolutely miracle if he survived Hermione.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thank you all for the awesome reviews! I'll be honest, I had originally never intended Neville to be a major character. But if there is one thing I have learned as a writer, when a character demands a bigger role, you have to oblige. So there will be plenty more of Neville to come. I would be interested in hearing some of your theories on Morgan and Severus's relationship. But first, allow me to hint at something: the most obvious theory on their relationship is incorrect. Thanks again for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

_**Author's Note: **irezei asked a great question about why Snape is the only one who can provide Hermione with blood. It was hinted at in the first chapter and explained a little more in this chapter as well. There will be more on it again as the story continues, but this is all you'll get for now :)  
><em>

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><p>Dumbledore slowly stirred the contents of his teacup. The silence grated on Snape's nerves but he resisted the urge to call attention to his irritation. His lengthy association with Dumbledore had taught him that the headmaster would get to the point when he saw fit. Regardless, Snape had spent many years of his life alternating between annoyance and admiration of the headmaster's ability to silently control the environment around him. Finally, Dumbledore lowered the spoon, resting it on a saucer on the desk. "How are things progressing with Miss Granger?"<p>

"They aren't."

Dumbledore rose an questioning eye brow. "I thought I told you to play nicely, Severus."

Sneering, Snape glared at the headmaster. "She's still too unstable. She hasn't had enough time to adjust."

The headmaster sat back and gazed over the top of his glasses. "And you are willing to give her that time?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

"We don't _have_ much time, Severus," Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, ignoring Snape's temper. "We need to find out what happened during the attack, and Miss Granger is the only one who can tell us."

Snape shook his head. "I know that. But she was unconscious for too long. The venom has a huge advantage over her body, and until she has had time to regain control over her humanity, there will be no hope of reviving her memories."

Dumbledore took another sip of his tea. The warmth helped to sooth him, allowing his mind to stay organized. Over the years, Dumbledore had learned many tricks to help keep calm and collected, and a nice cup of warm tea was by far his favorite. He considered Snape's words, trying to weigh their options. "How much control can she obtain while her transition is still in progress?"

"Enough." Sitting back, Snape crossed his arms. "But it won't happen overnight."

Dumbledore studied his companion for a moment. "Are you going to be able to cope with the greater frequency of her feeds?"

"Yes," he hissed out between clenched teeth, his body rigid. Dumbledore didn't need to clarify for Snape to know what he had meant. It wasn't the feedings themselves, or the vulnerability that accompanied them. The headmaster had been referring to the intense addiction caused by multiple exposures to the venom. After being faced with the symptoms years ago, Snape had developed a potion to counteract it's effect. The headmaster knew more about his history with Morgan than anyone, but Snape still didn't like talking about it, regardless of how much Dumbledore already knew. "I started preparing the the potion before Granger recovered."

Content, Dumbledore nodded. "And how much longer before her conversion will be complete?"

Relaxing a little, Snape shrugged. "It's impossible to predict. Morgan's transition was delayed as well, but while their transitions are nearly identical, the speed in which the venom has infected them is different. I assume it is due to how long Granger was unconscious."

Though he had tried to sound indifferent, a look of concern that crossed Snape's face. Taking note of his expression, Dumbledore learned forward. "You know what the delay means?"

Snape knew very well what the delay meant. Most converts completed their transition within a few days or a week, at most. The faster the transition, the more human the victim remained. They would often obtain a few enhanced skills, such as speed, strength, or sight, but otherwise remain mostly unchanged. But the longer the transition took to complete, the higher the risk that the victim would be left with more vampiric traits than human. He hadn't yet figured out what triggered the delay in some converts, while not in others. So the question was, would Hermione's conversion go as far as Morgan's did? He let a soft sigh escape him. "I have an idea, but there is no guarantee."

Cupping his hands around the still warm teacup, Dumbledore sighed. "You still aren't going to tell her, are you? Don't you think she deserves to know?"

"No." When Dumbledore shot him a warning glare, Snape continued. "It's not about what she does or does not deserve, Albus. She can barely hold on to reality as it is. This kind of information could very well shatter what is left of her."

The headmaster wanted to argue, but he knew he had no ground to stand on. He had spent the last five years conveniently hiding information from Harry until 'the time was right', not to mention all the other people he had been withholding information from, including Snape himself. Dumbledore knew if he tried to argue in Hermione's favor, Snape would call him out on it. Falling silent, Dumbledore stood and moved behind the chair to the pedestal Fawkes crouched on. He stroked the bird's soft plumage, considering his words. "And what of Morgan herself? Could she be of any assistance to Miss Granger?"

Snape stiffened, his expression darkening. "No." Dumbledore turned to face him, but he held up a hand, effectively halting whatever the headmaster was about to say. "Don't even try to play the bias game with me, Albus. Even assuming she was still sane, bringing Morgan here would be a huge mistake. Half-vampires, converted or born, are highly territorial. You would be better off bringing Death Eaters to the castle."

They fell into tense silence again and Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hated meeting with the headmaster; the conversations always left him feeling completely stripped of his dignity and privacy. His only consolation was knowing that, without reason to do otherwise, Dumbledore would take the information to the grave.

"It's all rather complicated, isn't it?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Unable to help himself, a small smirk crossed Snape's lips. "Vampires were never supposed to mate with humans in the first place. When you defy nature, things tend to get rather ... messy. Speaking of messy," he added, hoping to finally direct the conversation elsewhere, "what is the status on Slughorn?"

Feeling the tension lift from the change of subject, Dumbledore smiled and returned to his desk. "Mr. Potter and I paid him a visit not long ago. He agreed to return to the castle, though he was rather hesitant. But I am sure he will feel right at home again soon, especially once he reinstates the 'Slug Club'." Snape rolled his eyes. "Like it or not, Severus, his club has helped us identify possible recruits for the resistance against Voldemort in the past. It might be wise to keep an eye on who he selects this year."

"What of Longbottom?"

"I have already spoken to Minvera. She will see if she can nudge Mr. Longbottom in Slughorn's direction." Nodding, Snape stood, assuming the end of their meeting was on the horizon. Eyeing him carefully, Dumbledore let him reach the door before halting him. "Severus?" Snape sighed, his hand resting on the handle. "I would suggest you try to keep Miss Granger off of Slughorn's radar. The more people who know about her situation, the more likely it is for the information to make it back to Voldemort. And since we don't know who was ultimately behind the attack, we can't take that risk."

A visual of Hermione in the hands of Lord Voldemort shot through Snape's mind and he couldn't decide whether the image was more or less disturbing than the idea of her being the Ministry's weapon. Pushing those thoughts aside, he opened the door and stepped out of the office.

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><p>They hadn't spoken in days. Hermione and Snape had fallen into a silent routine; she would lock herself in the bathroom after waking from a nightmare and Snape would dress in the bedroom while she composed herself. Neither of them wanted to be the one to break the silence. The moment the door had closed behind her that night, Hermione had been determined to prove him wrong and Snape had merely decided to wait out the storm.<p>

As part of Hermione's crusade to prove her emotional stability, she had done as Snape instructed and reported to him for regular feedings over the last seven days. The theory had been if, after increasing the frequency of her feedings, there had been no change in her emotional state, then Snape would be wrong. But within a few days, she had privately conceded. She _had_ noticed a change in her emotions. She had become far less depressed and reasonably less angry. The only exception seemed to be Snape himself. Nothing seemed to change the instant defense she felt the need to hide behind when he was in her presence. What she didn't understand was _why_ he seemed to set her off so easily.

They had strictly followed their silent routine until the morning of the start of term. The day had started out much the same as the rest of the week had. She had been startled awake by the same nightmare that had haunted her since she left the infirmary. Breathing deeply, she buried her face in her hands. She had hoped that the increase in her feedings would rid her of her nightmares as well, but she hadn't been so lucky. Sighing, she slipped out of bed and crossed to the wardrobe. Opening it for the first time, she scanned the Gryffindor uniform and black robes. Something about them seemed comforting and she assumed it was from a subconscious connection to her lost memories. Her fingers brushed over the Gryffindor emblem before she pulled the clothes from their hangers and closed the wardrobe.

Turning slightly on her way to the bathroom, a figure caught her eye. Head snapping up she found Snape sitting on the side of his bed silently watching her. She had gotten so used to him staying under the covers until she retreated to the bathroom that she had almost forgotten he'd been pretending to be asleep the whole time. A mix of curiosity and fear filled her as she turned away from him and snapped the bathroom door closed between them. She took longer than normal to get ready for the day, hoping that he would be gone before she opened the door. Staring in the mirror, she cast a concealment charm on her fangs. She considered using the charm on her eyes as well, but decided against it. She was sure Snape would yell at her if she took away the easiest method of determining her emotional state. Allowing her hair to fall in beachy waves down her back, she shrugged her robe on over her uniform and took a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom.

Snape stood in front of the door leading to the sitting room, dressed in his usual black trousers and jacket, the white of his dress shirt hidden under a long black robe. He had his back pressed up against the door, effectively blocking any attempt she could make at leaving the room. Grasping at the courage she always gained from the anger he instilled in her, she crossed her arms and glared.

His gaze swept over her stance before they jumped up to meet her eyes. "What are the dreams about?"

"Excuse me?"

He sucked in a breath, trying to keep calm. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Granger. Don't play stupid."

"So now I'm unstable _and_ stupid?" she snapped. "Why should I tell you anything?"

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't move from the door. "It is clear your feedings haven't effected your dreams, and since you aren't the only person in this room, I would prefer to get a full night's rest instead of listening to you whine in your sleep."

His cold, indifferent tone washed over her and she wondered if he could care any _less_ than he already did. She had opened her mouth to retort, but stopped. The last time he had asked her about the nightmares, she had determined she would need to beat him at his own game if she wanted to be left alone. Her mind raced, trying to find anything she could used against him. A small smirk crossed her lips as she latched on to the one thing she knew would hit him hard. "What happened between you and Morgan?"

He hadn't been expecting that. She watched his body go rigid and felt a small amount of satisfaction at the flash of anger she saw in his eyes. "That's none of your business," he finally hissed.

"Guess we're even then," she shot back. "Now move."

He shot her a harsh, but calculating glare. He considered giving in and letting her leave again, but Dumbledore's words rang through his mind. 'W_e don't have much time, Severus'._ The headmaster had been right. They needed to know what had happened in the Forest and Snape had complete confidence that her nightmares were connected to the attack. He had tried the 'wait it out' tactic all week, but it had become clear that that wouldn't get them anywhere. He only had one option left; push until she snapped. If he could bring her passed the breaking point, she wouldn't be able to keep the secrets contained anymore. And since she seemed to still have plenty of unexplained issues with him, he knew it wouldn't take long to make her cross that line. But was _he_ ready to let her cross that line?

Snape pushed away from the door and stepped back. He could see the satisfied look in her eyes as she swept passed him and out of the room without a word. Sighing, Snape crossed his arms and rested the back of his head against the wall. Dumbledore wasn't going to be happy about the delay, but he would just have to deal with. Everyone had their limits and Snape wasn't ready yet.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you all for your awesome reviews! Jill, your review blew me away and I am very grateful for your kind words of encouragement. And I love the theories on Morgan. Keep the theories and questions coming, because believe it or not, your questions help me develop better content so I can ensure the information is being delivered properly. Thanks again for reading! _


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>Snape hadn't been the only person Hermione had avoided that week. She hadn't seen Neville since the day he had dragged her back to the castle from Hogsmead. She felt bad about hiding from him, but she thought it would be better than seeing the monster she felt inside reflected back in his eyes. But since it was the eve of the start of the term, she knew she wouldn't be able to run from him anymore. Resigning herself to what she knew would be an awkward reunion, she strode toward the Great Hall. The only problem was she still hadn't thought of a reasonable explanation for what he had witnessed. What did you say to someone who had watched your eyes turn red as you bared your fangs at them?<p>

Stepping up to the open doors of the Great Hall, she spotted Neville sitting alone near the entrance, a book open on the table next to his breakfast. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the table and sat down next to him. "Hey, Neville."

His head shot up and a broad grin spread across his face. "Hey yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess." Leaning forward, she filled her plate with some eggs, a piece of toast, bacon, and a muffin. They sat in silence as she spread strawberry jam on the toast, both unsure how to continue the conversation.

After a minute Neville cleared his throat and poked his eggs with a fork. "I was getting worried about you."

Hermione didn't know how to respond. She couldn't bring herself to lie to him, but she couldn't tell him the truth either. But she had to say _something_. Sighing, she lowered the knife. "Sorry, Neville. I was just-"

"Avoiding me?" Stunned, her head shot up and she was greeted with another wide grin. "I figured as much. You don't have to tell me everything Hermione, but you promised not to lie to me."

Suddenly all the tension between them seemed to slip away. There was something highly infectious about Neville's happiness and she couldn't help but smile a little herself. She had spent all week running from the one person who had been willing to let her have her privacy and still accepted her regardless. Had Neville always been such a good friend? He seemed to have such a good heart that she couldn't picture him any other way. As the silence continued, his gaze shifted slightly and should could have sworn he glanced at her teeth. Was he looking for her fangs?

Turning back to her breakfast, she grabbed the muffin and stripped off the top. "I never got a chance to thank you."

Shrugging, Neville turned back to his own loaded plate. "Don't worry about it. It's what friends do."

Movement at the staff table caught their eyes. Glancing up, they watched Snape slip into his usual seat next to Dumbledore and immediately engage in a whispered conversation with the headmaster. Hermione got the sneaking suspicion that their conversation was about her, a thought that had been swiftly confirmed when Dumbledore turned his head and matched her gaze. There was an unusual sternness to his gaze that made her feel a little uncomfortable. Tearing her eyes away, she tried to busy herself with her breakfast.

Sufficiently distracted, she missed when Snape looked up and exchanged a particular gaze with Neville. After a moment, Neville lowered his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. He still felt a little baffled by the conversation he had with the Potions Master a few days earlier. Though he knew he would always feel a little uncomfortable in Snape's presence, he secretly hoped that their mutual concern for Hermione would make their interactions in class far more bearable going forward. But he wasn't going to hold his breath. He was well aware that his concern for Hermione as his friend wasn't the same type of concern Snape had for her.

After a few more forkfuls of eggs, he nudged Hermione. "Speaking of friends, Harry and Ron will be arriving tonight."

Sighing, she pushed her half eaten breakfast aside. "What am I supposed to tell them? I'm sure they will notice that I'm ..."

"A bit different?" he offered. "Probably. But you already have an alibi." When she shot him a confused expression, Neville laughed. "You ran head first into a Centaur, remember?"

Unable to resist laughing herself, she pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead. "Yeah, somehow I doubt they'll believe that."

"You never know. They don't really compare to your level of intellect," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, they're great, but not always the brightest."

"Okay," she chuckled, amused by his honesty, "But what about my absence from Gryffindor tower?"

Shrugging, he took a bite of toast. "You could always say you are still on medical observation and under the care of the staff until they see fit."

Hermione stared at him. Every time she thought she had finally figured him out, Neville would always say something to surprise her. There was a tone of authority in his voice, almost as if he knew much more about her situation than he had let on. It made her she wonder if he realized just how accurate his suggested 'lie' had been. Trying to seem casual, she shrugged. "Good idea. Thanks."

Following breakfast, Neville convinced Hermione to go to Hogsmead with him again. She had initially protested, the memories of their last visit flooding her mind, but gave in when Neville got down on his knees and pretended to beg. Laughing, she agreed, as long as he didn't mind if she stopped in at some of the clothing boutiques while they were there. Though he had initially been hesitant at the idea, he made a deal with her; he would be a good sport about her shopping providing that afterward they would return to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. Content with their compromise, they strode down the path to the gates on the edge of the castle grounds.

As they walked, something started to bother her. The more she thought about her interactions with Neville, the more confused she became. It didn't seem to matter what she said or what she did, Neville refused to ask questions. She wasn't about to complain, as she had been rather happy with his lack of snooping, especially since Snape seemed incapable of leaving her alone. But she knew that if she had been in Neville's position, she wouldn't be able to resist the burning curiosity. Once they were through the gates, she grabbed his arm, unable to stand it any longer. "How do you _do _that?"

"Do what?"

"How can you stand not asking questions?" she demanded.

His confused expression instantly made way for a bright smile. "There's a quote I heard a few years ago; 'Once you start asking questions, innocence is gone'." Shrugging, he continued walking. "I guess I'm okay with staying innocent for a while longer."

Struck by his words, she stood frozen on the path. The very boy who had agreed to help her lie to everyone around her had just defined himself as 'innocent'. If that was his interpretation of people who _didn't_ ask questions, she was afraid to ask what that made her. Shaking her head lightly, she snapped out of her musing and she sprinted to catch up to him further down the path.

Holding true to his word, Neville calmly waited for Hermione to sift through the selection of clothes available in two different boutiques. Content to let her shop in peace, he had brought the book he had been reading in the Great Hall with him and made himself comfortable on a bench outside. As Hermione looked through the racks of clothing, she didn't really know what she was looking for. But she did know what she wanted to avoid. All the clothes she currently owned were so plain and basic that she wondered if she had been trying to go unnoticed on purpose. Regardless, her wardrobe didn't properly reflect how she felt about herself now, so she was determined to find clothes with more character. Once she felt pleased with her selections, she purchased them and joined Neville outside.

Afterward, they had arrived at the Three Broomsticks and settled themselves down at a small table by the windows, butterbeers in hand. Sipping the sweet beverage, Hermione suddenly understood why Neville had raved about it. While it had a rather powerful sugary flavor, it was also wonderfully smooth and creamy. Sighing happily, she smiled at her companion.

"So, you already told me plenty about everyone I'm friends with. Is there anyone I should watch out for?"

Nodding vigorously, Neville swirled the mug in his hands. "The Slytherins, but mostly Draco Malfoy and his groupies. They're a nasty sort."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. With Snape as their head of house, it only makes sense."

A smile crossed Neville's lips. "You really don't like him, do you?"

She blinked at him, a little thrown off by his question. "Of course not. You don't like him any better."

"True, but you've never directly expressed any dislike for him before." Pausing to take a sip, he caught the skeptical expression on her face. "You aren't the type of person to bash the teachers normally."

"Why? Was I some sort of teacher's pet?" When Neville almost choked on his butterbeer, she sighed. At least now she had an explanation for the clothes. "Of course I was," she grumbled.

"Not exactly," he interjected once he had successfully swallowed. "You were more of an overachiever than anything else."

"As in ...?" she asked, an eye brow raised.

"Perfection obsessed, schedule dependent, research starved ..." he trailed off as he watched her expression fall flat. "Hey, you asked."

Sighing again, she waved a hand indifferently. "I know. I'm just not used to your honesty still. You seem to be the only person who isn't hiding something from me."

About to take another sip, Neville froze, the mug hovering mid way between the table and his mouth. Before she could catch the guilt in his eyes, he decided to direct the conversation to someone else. "Snape?"

"And Dumbledore," she mumbled before sipping her own butterbeer as they drifted into silence. Neither of them knew where to take the conversation from there, worried that it would venture into territory they didn't want to discuss.

Once they had finished their drinks, Neville took Hermione to some of the other shops in Hogsmead. They spent rest of the morning and most of the afternoon enjoying each others company while carefully avoiding conversations about Snape, the headmaster, and her condition. By the end of the afternoon, she was sure of one thing; if her other friends rejected her, she would be content to just have Neville in her life. She didn't know what their relationship had been like before the attack, but being around him felt so natural that she would dare to call him her best friend.

They returned to the castle an hour before the Hogwarts Express had been scheduled to arrive. She didn't want to leave Neville's company, but she needed to put her purchases away before the other students arrived. She agreed to meet up with him back in the Great Hall before slipping away to the dungeons. When she reached the portrait, she stepped into the sitting room, expecting to see Snape, but it was empty. Crossing to the bedroom, she let out a soft sigh when she peaked in and saw that it was also empty. She felt rather grateful since she had had such a good afternoon that the last thing she wanted to deal with was Snape's constant nagging. Stepping to her side of the room, she opened the drawers of her dresser and spend a couple minutes reorganizing the collection of clothes. She moved the older clothes to the back of the drawers in case she ever needed them, putting the new clothes at the front. Satisfied, she straightened up and placed a few small jars of treats from Honeydukes Sweet Shop on the top of the dresser.

Leaving the bedroom, she had been about to head back to the Great Hall when something caught her eye on the side of the sitting room. She had noticed the long, thin brewing table last week when Snape brought her to the dungeons after leaving the infirmary, but she hadn't paid much attention to the small cauldrons sitting on top of it. Stepping up to the table, she peered into the two active cauldrons. Taking note of the color, she immediately recognized one of the concoctions to be the Blood Replenishing potion. It made sense that Snape had been constantly brewing that particular potion, since he would need to use it after each of her feedings. But the second cauldron was the one that really grabbed her attention. She could identify the scent of any potion she had ever made, but the potion in front of her seemed to be completely scent free. Confused, she leaned a little closer and sniffed the warm air. Then leaning back, she crossed her arms and tried to think if she had ever heard of a scentless potion. Gazing into the cauldron, she frowned at the thick, white liquid. Feeling slightly frustrated with her inability to recognize the potion, she turned away from the table and left the sitting room. She would have to ponder it again at another time.

As she walked toward the Great Hall, the echo of her shoes through the corridors sounded rather eerie. Had the corridors always echoed that much or had she just become really nervous? Breathing deeply, she tried to keep calm but with little success. When she arrived at the Great Hall, she looked around for Neville and, upon spotting him, immediately joined him at the Gryffindor table. As the minutes ticked by, the rest of the students who had spent the summer at the castle slowly trickled in, taking a seat at their respective house tables. Soon after, the Professors and additional Hogwarts staff started to enter the room, fluidly finding their seats.

Neville pulled the sleeve of his robes back and glanced at his wristwatch. "Almost time." Leaning closer, he placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You ready for this?"

Unsure of how to answer, she instinctively looked up at the staff table. All the staff members seemed occupied with conversations amongst each other, except for Snape. As if sensing her gaze, he caught her eyes and observed her for a moment. Then, he gently tipped his head down in what appeared to be a barely noticeable nod. It was almost as if he could read her mind and he knew she had been looking for some sort of sign of encouragement. Letting out a shuttering breath, she turned her gaze back to Neville and smiled. "Yeah."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I big thank you to gemini-rose16 for pointing out that I had Hermione's age wrong in the first chapter (oops). I will get that fixed ASAP! And thank you all again for your reviews. I am really enjoying reading your theories and seeing how excited you are all getting as the plot continues. I'll admit, I struggled a little with this chapter because nothing world shattering happens this time. But I did feel it was important to continue to develop the relationship between Hermione and Neville. I have big plans for Neville Longbottom in this story, so you will be seeing a lot of character interaction with him and many of the characters. And for anyone wondering, my thought behind Neville's personality in this story is "subtly, thy name is Gryffindor"._


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>A few minutes later, Hermione watched as groups of students made their way into the Great Hall. The tables started to fill up as more and more students poured in, in a seemingly endless wave of black robes. Groaning, she leaned forward and let her head fall into the palms of her hands. Her heart started to race and she began to doubt her ability to handle blending in with the rest of the school. Catching her attempt to hide, Neville nudged her lightly with his shoulder and gave her a gentle smile.<p>

"It'll be okay, Hermione," he whispered. When she merely shook her head, he leaned in and grabbed her hands, forcing them away from her face. When she glanced up in surprise, he lanced their fingers together and give her hand a light squeeze. There was nothing romantic about the gesture; it felt no different than something a brother would do for his sister. But there was something so_ human_ about it that she sat frozen, staring at him. His smile grew a little brighter as he squeezed her hand again before pulling back, letting her hand drop to her side. "Relax a little. You're starting to make _me _nervous."

Sighing, she tried to return his easy smile, but the warmth didn't quite make it to her eyes. Something about the physical contact they had just shared picked at her mind. Since she couldn't remember anything from before the attack, she had no idea if anyone had ever reached out to her like that before. But Neville's gesture had reminded her of the day she had almost bit him, when Snape had grabbed her chin. It hadn't exactly been a gentle, caring gesture and he had only done it out of necessity. But with very little experiences with human touch to fall back on, she couldn't get it out of her mind. Had she really become so inhuman that something so simple felt so foreign?

Suddenly Hermione had been pulled out of her musing as Neville leaned back and waved at some of the students who had just entered the Great Hall. Peaking around him, Hermione saw two redheaded Gryffindors return his greeting and approach their area of the table. Searching her brain for the information Neville had imparted her with about their friends, she guessed that they were Ron and Ginny, the youngest members of the Weasley family. _There's no turning back now, _she thought miserably.

"Hey Neville!" Ron greeted in a hearty tone. Plunking himself down across from Neville, Ron smiled and turned his gaze to Hermione. He opened his mouth, but no words came out as he took in the sight of her.

After a few tense seconds, Hermione swallowed and forced herself to break the silence. "Hey, Ron."

A strange expression crossed his face, but before he could say anything, Ginny dropped into the seat next to her brother. "You have no idea how _boring_ the train ride was this year without you guys!" she exclaimed, resting her head on the table. She seemed completely oblivious to her brother's blatant gaping. After a moment, she gave a heavy sigh and sat up, freezing as her eyes landed on Hermione.

In an attempt to cut the tension, Neville cleared his throat. "Weren't Harry and Luna with you guys?"

Tearing her eyes away from Hermione, Ginny shook her head. "Luna spent the trip passing out copies of the Quibbler. Harry _was _with us, but then he left our compartment and we haven't seen him since."

"What happened to you?" Ron suddenly interjected, still staring at Hermione.

Were all Gryffindors so ridiculously blunt? She had come to expect it of Neville, but she hadn't been prepared to receive it from everyone else too. In an attempt to come off as ignorant, Hermione returned Ron's blank stare. "Pardon?"

"You look sick." When Ginny shot her brother a harsh glare, he added, "You're really pale."

Swallowing her nerves, she tried her hand at indifference. "I just got out of the infirmary last week."

"What?" Ginny leaned forward, taking in Hermione's features more seriously. "What happened?"

"I don't really remember much, actually." Since both Neville and Snape had called her out on her lack of deception skills, she decided to give them just enough of the details to avoid actively lying. "Took a bit of nasty hit to the head in the Forbidden Forest." Though she was sure much more than her head had been effected that night.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, his face filled with outrage. "Why on earth were you in the Forest?"

"Potions assignment," Neville jumped in. When their focus shifted to him, he squirmed under their gaze. "Some of the Professors took us into the Forest to restock the potion supplies. It's my fault, really. We were so engrossed in a conversation about the properties of Tentacula leaves that Hermione didn't notice the sharp hill next to us."

Smiling lightly, Hermione silently thanked the heavens for the boy sitting next to her. Since they were no longer alone, she could suddenly see that Neville had some major insecurities that she hadn't yet witnessed. But despite his lack of confidence, he had already done a much better job at lying than she ever had. There was something rather sweet and completely _Gryffindor_ about his determination to help her. No one could ever accuse him of displaying a lack of loyalty.

The Weasleys grimaced, as if they could picture her body tumbling down the imaginary hill. Before they could ask anymore questions, Hermione steered the conversation to her recovery instead. "It happened not long after returning to the castle. I was in a coma until last week."

"Geeze, Hermione," Ron breathed, his forehead creased with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, waving her hand dismissively. "But Dumbledore has me under staff surveillance for a while, just in case."

When the two Weasleys nodded, accepting the half truths she and Neville had presented them with, Hermione felt her muscles relax a little. She hadn't realized how rigid she had been. Catching Neville's eye, they exchanged a small smile as two other Gryffindor boys threw themselves down into the seats on the other side of Ron. The appearance of Seamus and Dean grabbed Ginny and Ron's attention, and they soon broke into conversation. It wasn't until Flitwick levitated a three legged stool with an old, tattered hat to the front of the Great Hall that Ginny turned back to Hermione.

"Have you seen Harry? He should have been here by now. They sorting is about to start." Shaking her head, Hermione glanced nervously at Neville who shrugged. Concern filled Ginny's face and she bit her bottom lip. "Do you think something happened to him?"

Sensing his sister's worry, Ron clasped her shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring. "I'm sure he's fine, Ginny. Maybe he got himself in trouble on the train and it getting a lecture or something."

Before anyone could respond, Dumbledore rose from his chair and lifted his hands to silence the hum of conversation. Once everyone had fallen quiet, the headmaster resumed his seat and his eyes drifted to the entrance of the Great Hall. Curious, Hermione turned her head to see McGonagall leading a pack of intimated looking first years through the middle of the room. She halted their steps as they reached the front, the Sorting Hat sitting between them and the staff table.

In the week she had spent avoiding Neville, Hermione had read the copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ that he had lent her. She had become rather interested in the sorting process and felt a small amount of excitement building as she waited for the sorting ceremony to begin. The mouth-like crease in the old fabric of the hat curved into a smile before the hat's mouth opened wide and it began to sing. The voice emanating from the hat echoed off the stone walls, making it sound almost ominous. As the hat sang about the need to stay strong and true in troubled times, Hermione's gaze shifted to the staff table and landed on Snape. She was surprised to see he was the only person who wasn't looking at the Sorting Hat. Instead he sat rigid in his chair, he head tilted down, his gaze on his hands which lay folded together on the table. She couldn't tell if he was listening to the song, or if his mind had wondered elsewhere. Her eyes drifted back to the Sorting Hat as it concluded it's eerie lyrics.

McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a a long piece of parchment and started to read out the individual names of the unsorted first year students. One by one, the students approached the stool and had the Sorting Hat placed on their heads. Some of the students took several minutes to be sorted, but a few had hardly had the hat placed on their head before it had already belted out the result. Hermione found the quick responses rather amusing, especially when one of them had been sorted in Ravenclaw. She wondered what level of intellectual pigheadedness would be required to be sorted into that house so quickly.

After the final first year had been sorted into Hufflepuff, McGonagall levitated the stool, along with the Sorting Hat, out of the room. Dumbledore stood once again, this time addressing the mass of robed students gazing up at him.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, and a very special welcome to our new students! Though I have a few announcements to make, it is best that we are all well feed before I begin. Enjoy the feast," he concluded, clapping his hands together.

Suddenly all of the tables were covered with all manner of delicious foods and beverages. A few gasps of surprised were issued by the first year students while the rest of the students started to load their plates. The dinner passed by rather uneventfully, though Hermione kept catching Ron sneaking glances at her, a strange look in his eyes. Trying her best to ignore the attention he had been giving her, she focused on her meal and gave no indication that she had seen him watching her. Following the meal, the dinner selections on the tables were replaced with a wide variety of desserts and treats. As Hermione reached forward to grab a few cookies, Ginny's head shot up toward the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Oh, finally!" she huffed. "There's Harry." Even Seamus and Dean turned to look at Harry as he strode into the Great Hall with Luna. His hair was a mess and he appeared to be holding a cloth to his nose. Hermione watched him nod appreciatively at the Ravenclaw before parting ways with her and walking toward them. As he approached, Ginny sighed. "He's covered in blood again. Why is he _always_ covered in blood?"

Ginny's words struck Hermione like a slap in the face. Blood? Before she had time to think, Harry had reached their area of the table and sat down next to her. The scent of the blood running from his nose hit her and she felt like her stomach had suddenly been placed in a vice grip. _Oh no!_ Her head started to swim as she jumped to her feet, surprising everyone around her. Barely able to focus, she turned on her heel and dashed out of the Great Hall. Stunned, Harry glanced around at his friends.

"Is she okay?"

Neville looked from the doors of the Great Hall to Harry and paled as the realization hit him. Swallowing, he forced a calm tone into his voice. "She's just not feeling too well. She'll be fine."

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><p>Snape had decidedly ignored the desserts that appeared in front of him. He had never really had much of a sweet tooth, even in his youth. Pushing his plate aside, he glanced down at the Gryffindor table. He had been surprised at how easily Hermione seemed to blend in with her friends. Though after the interaction he had witnessed between her and Neville as the students started to arrive, he assumed her ease had something to do with the young Gryffindor. He still wasn't sure what to make of Neville since their conversation, but he was sure of one thing; Neville wasn't afraid of Hermione. Only time would tell whether that would continue to be a good thing or not.<p>

Movement at the entrance of the Great Hall caught his attention and he watched Harry saunter in with Luna. The boy's absence from the feast had peaked Snape's interest, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. As Harry approached his friends, Snape noticed the blood soaked cloth the boy held to his nose. Blood? He stiffened, his gaze on Hermione and held his breath. He saw the exact moment that scent of the blood hit her, the muscles in her body tightening to much it looked painful. Before she had even left her seat, Snape swiftly slipped out of his own and darted through a door behind the staff table, taking a short cut to the castle's entrance.

Hermione rounded the corner just outside the Great Hall right as Snape stepped from the corridor. She would have flown right by him had he not thrown his arm out, catching her in his grasp. She seemed so startled that he wasn't even sure she had realized it had been him who grabbed her. She jerked back, terror in her eyes, but he firmly grabbed hold of her arms so she couldn't escape. Her breath heaved from her lungs as she tried to make sense of what was going on.

"Granger," he hissed, as she tried to pull back again. But he hadn't expected the sheer amount of strength that filled her movements and she momentarily slipped from his grasp. Sneering, he surged forward, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other across her collar bone, pinning her back to his chest. "Granger!"

She continued to struggle for a few seconds before giving up from pure exhaustion and frustration. She collapsed against him, a shuttering breath rattling it's way through her body. They stood in silence as her heart started to calm and her limbs began to relax. "Snape?" She sounded confused, as if she had no understanding of what had happened.

Relaxing a little himself, he released his hold on her, only to grab her arms again and spin her around to face him. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, sure," she huffed between deep breaths. Groaning, she turned her head to the floor.

"Do you need-"

"No!" she interjected, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "No," she repeated more calmly. "I was just ... I wasn't prepared for that."

Sighing, he finally let go and straightened up, brushing the wrinkles from his robes. "I think it would be best for you to retire for the night, Granger. It would be absolute stupidity to go back to the Great Hall." Nodding, Hermione adjusted her own robes as she turned toward the dungeons.

Snape silently accompanied her to the portrait and escorted her inside. With barely a glance in his direction, Hermione crossed to the bedroom, snapping the door shut between them. The rest of the tension rolled off of him and he dropped into one of the chairs by the fireplace. He had only seen that look of panic in her eyes once before, when she had almost attacked Neville. The more he thought about it, he realized just how afraid of herself she had become. He would have to find a way to shatter that fear before it could take control of her.

Sighing, he rotated his right wrist a few times to ease the tingling sensation emanating from the scars. He preferred to fight the nagging addiction to the venom on his own for as long as possible, but he knew his ability to control it would soon be coming to an end. The more exposure he had to her venom, the worse it would get. Standing, he crossed to the brewing table and examined the thick, white mixture inside on of the cauldrons. Absentmindedly rotating his wrist again, he stirred the potion with his left hand.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>__Thank you again for your amazing compliments; I have worked really hard since my first ever fanfic (13 years ago) to get to the point that my writing is now. I am really glad that so many of you are enjoying this story! And yes, you **will** learn all about Snape and Morgan later in the story, but for now you'll just have to stew in your theories :P  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>Hermione woke much the same as she had for the past week; in cold sweat, the memory of her torturous nightmare slipping away from her conscious mind. Exhausted from the rocky sleep, she started to wonder if she wouldn't be better off becoming an insomniac. She tried to focus on taking deep, even breaths to steady her racing heart while laying on her back, examining the enchanted ceiling. The fluffy grey clouds that covered the usually light blue sky gave promise to rain later in the day.<p>

Sighing, she sat up and instinctively glanced over at Snape's bed, but it was empty. The sheets were laid out smooth and flat as if he had never retired for the night. Curious, she glanced at the pillows resting against the headboard. Though they also appeared to be smooth and untouched, they were not in the same position they had been in the day before, an indication that he _had_ come to bed after all. Yawning, she turned to examine the watch siting on her nightstand. It was 5:23 a.m. Where had Snape gone so early in the morning?

Hermione slipped out of bed and went about her usual morning routine. After a warm bath, she pulled on her uniform and grabbed her long hair, pulling it away from her face and tying it up in a tony tail. After reapplying the concealment charm on her fangs, she threw the classic black robes on over her uniform and returned to the bedroom. She had expected to suddenly find Snape lurking about the room like he had several times the previous week, but he wasn't there. Though she was rather happy about his absence, she couldn't shake the fact that something about it felt strange.

When she opened the bedroom door, she expected to find the sitting room empty. But the sight in front of her made her freeze, suddenly feeling like she had walked into a trap. The headmaster sat on one of the chairs by the fireplace, while the other chair had been occupied by a man she didn't recognize. Confused, she willed her limbs to take her through the doorway. As she stepped into the room, she noticed Snape off to the side, leaning against the desk across from the hearth. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest, his eyes focused on the unknown man with an unreadable expression on his face.

Noticing her entrance, Dumbledore shifted his body so he could see her and smiled. "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Headmaster," she addressed him respectfully. "What's going on?"

Not waiting for Dumbledore to introduce him, the mysterious man stood and approached her, his hand held out in greeting. "Inspector Ineus Comonar. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

Comonar had long grey hair pulled back from his face, which held a few signs of age around his eyes and mouth. He stood confidently, with a gentle smile though his eyes seemed rather firm. Though he seemed rather harmless, Hermione did not return the welcoming gesture. As much as she didn't want to admit it, human touch intimidated her. Touching Neville had always felt right, like he was a member of her family. But she internally cringed away from the thought of shaking hands with the man in front of her. "Inspector?"

"Head Investigator for the Department of Humanitarian Corruption," Comonar explained, his arm still hovering in the air between them.

Taking half a step back, Hermione shifted her arms, locking them behind her back in the hopes that Comonar would understand her desire to avoid contact. _Humanitarian Corruption?_ The term felt like a slap in the face. A sneer crossed her lips as she welcomed the now rather familiar wave of anger starting to brew inside. "I've never heard of that department."

Frowning, Comonar scanned her stance and finally dropped his arm to his side. "Of course, my dear," his voice remained calm, though he continued to study her with a concerned expression. "The Ministry has had many secret departments over the years."

"Like the Department of Mysteries?" she snapped, unable to stop herself as the stories Neville told her flashed through her mind.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed the inspector's face, though only briefly before he regained his composure. "I am not at liberty to confirm or deny the other departments, Miss Granger. I am merely here to do my job."

For the first time since she had entered the room, Snape shifted. The movement was so subtle that she almost missed it. But the sudden set of his shoulders gave her the impression that she wasn't the only person in the room who didn't like Comonar. Had he met the inspector before or did he just not like him on principle? Crossing her arms, Hermione leaned back slightly to put more space between them and examined the inspector. "And what _is_ your job?"

"To keep an eye on you, Miss Granger."

Completely thrown off, she stared to Comonar with a dumbfounded expression."What?"

"As I am sure you have been informed," Comonar continued, completely unphased by her shock, "your situation is a rather delicate matter. Though it would be in the best interest of the Ministry to assume guardianship over you, it is in _your_ best interest to complete your education and adjust to your new circumstances. Providing you are able to adjust accordingly," he waved his hand in the headmaster's direction, "which Professor Dumbledore has the utmost confidence in, you will no longer need to be under Ministry observation. However," turning away from Hermione, Comonar momentarily glanced at Snape before slowly striding toward the fireplace, "until you are able to prove your humanity can remain intact, my department will visit Hogwarts to perform regular inspections throughout the year to assess your stability."

Hermione caught the subtle threat behind his words; if she couldn't prove her humanity, the Department of Humanitarian Corruption would be responsible for removing her from society. Though she could tell by the tone in Comonar's voice that he would prefer to avoid coming to that decision, he seemed like a man who took his job very seriously and would not hesitate to take her out if she were to be deemed 'unstable'. Though she already knew how the Ministry would handle her if she lost control, the reminder did little to calm the storm building inside her.

"I'm not dangerous," she hissed, pinning the inspector's back with a fierce glare.

Turning around, Comonar caught her gaze and held it. He didn't at all seem phased by her anger; in fact, he seemed almost amused as he watched her eyes slowly darken. It become pretty clear to Hermione that this was not the inspectors first time dealing with a convert. Still holding her gaze, a sickly sweet smile crossed his lips. "Of course not, my dear."

His obviously patronizing tone only served to infuriate her further. An unsettling thick, dark aura of rage started to pulse from her body, infecting the environment of the room like a super virus. Catching the headmaster's eye, Snape swiftly slipped away from the desk and stepped up behind her. The last thing they needed was for her to attack a Ministry representative. If the Ministry were to be given any reason to take her into custody, they would lose their chance to revive her memories of the attack.

Locking eyes with Comonar, Snape purposefully leaned closer to Hermione, towering over her like a stone gargoyle. Another strange look crossed the inspector's face as he studied Snape's protective stance behind her. "Thank you for your time, Inspector. But Miss Granger still needs to feed before attending her classes this morning." Gesturing toward the portrait behind Dumbledore, a sneer spread across his face. "So if you'll excuse us."

"No need to worry," Comonar suddenly smiled, waving his wand to summon some parchment and a quill. Nothing seemed to bother the man as he pointedly ignored the glare Snape sent his way. "As you might remember, _Professor_, I am required to oversee some of Miss Granger's feedings while she is still under Ministry observation."

Hermione suddenly felt like her stomach had jumped into her throat. Her anger immediately slipped away, replaced by a deep, bone chilling fear. She already felt mortified enough about drinking blood to survive, but now she had to let someone watch her fed? There was a moment of silence as Comonar turned his attention to the parchment in his hands and began taking notes. Still sneering, Snape stepped around Hermione, pausing in front of the inspector. "I don't think that is really necessary," Snape hissed under his breath.

Peering up at Snape over the top of the parchment, Comonar raised a questioning an eye brow. "If I recall, Severus, you said that _last time_ too. And we both know what happened after that." The inspector's voice was so low that Hermione wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly. Was Comonar talking about Morgan? An awkward silence filled the room as the inspector returned to his notes, disregarding the furious look on Snape's face. "It's Ministry policy, Professor. You know that," he concluded, returning his voice to full volume.

Before Snape could respond, Dumbledore stepped forward and placed his hand on Snape's shoulder. The look they exchanged seemed to tame his anger a little and, much to Hermione's surprise, Snape stepped aside, his head slightly lowered in submission. Content, the headmaster turned to Comonar with a gentle smile. "I'll take my leave now then. When you are finished, Inspector, you'll find me in my office." Nodding curtly at Hermione and Snape, Dumbledore strode from the room and stepped through the portrait.

Hermione's fear morphed into complete terror. Trying to find reason in the situation, she stepped forward and hesitantly addressed the inspector. "How often will you need to ... watch?"

Finally lowering his notes, Comonar tried to give her a gentle smile. "Twice a month to start, Miss Granger. Though you will be seeing members of my department once a week for a while. But as we watch your progress, we can then adjust the number of visits you will require." Gesturing to the couch in front of the fireplace, his expression suddenly turned firm and professional. "Shall we?"

Shaking slightly, Hermione slowly stepped toward the couch, her mind racing. Just before she reached it, a firm hand grabbed her arm and she felt Snape's presence behind her. As he leaned down, she jolted when she felt his breath on her ear. "Do as you're told," he whispered in a surprising gentle tone. "Don't give them a reason to be suspicious." No sooner were the words out of his mouth, he released her and slipped away to take a seat in front of the fire.

Glancing at Comonar, Hermione noticed his face was once again hidden behind his notes. Snape had used the inspector's distraction to their advantage, which meant Comonar had completely missed the exchange between them. Letting out a harsh breath, she crossed the rest of the way to the couch and lowered herself onto the seat next to Snape. There was nothing unusual about the arrangement, as they had sat on the couch for all of her feedings over the past week, but this time the air felt heavy and pumped full of tension. Glancing at Snape's face, his expression gave nothing away. But his rigid muscles told her he wasn't looking forward to being watched either.

Knowing they couldn't delay it any longer, Snape unclasped the buttons around his right wrist and pulled up the fabric, exposing the silver scars that covered the skin. As Hermione took hold of his wrist, Comonar stepped around the couch and stood directly in front of them, quill and parchment ready. Sighing, Hermione tried her best to push her nerves aside as she bent forward and effortlessly broke through the skin. As usual, Snape flinched at the initial bite, but the pain quickly disappeared as the venom flowed through his system. When Hermione finally sat back, Snape leaned into the back of the couch for support, pressing the familiar handkerchief to the wound as he waited for his mind to be released from the effects of the venom.

"Excellent," the inspector's voice suddenly cut through the silence. "Thank you for your time, Miss Granger. I'll see myself out, Professor." Nodding, Comonar vanished the parchment and quill before crossing to the portrait and stepping into the corridor.

As Snape started to come too, Hermione could have sworn she heard him mutter something rather rude about the inspector. Though her heart was still racing, she suddenly had a ton of questions. Sure Snape would refuse to answer them, she decided to ask while he was still recovering in hopes that he would be more willing to oblige. "Did you already know Comonar?"

Frowning, Snape shifted his head to look at her. "Yes," he responded slowly, "What of it?"

"Just something he said. And you don't seem to have a very good opinion of him."

To her surprise, a small smirk spread across his lips. "I don't have very good opinion of anyone, Granger."

Taking in his mood, she decided to take a chance with her next question. Letting out a breath, she pressed on. "And he knew Morgan?"

Despite the fact that his head was still rather fuzzy, a dark look crossed Snape's face. If he hadn't of been so incapacitated he would have seen her ulterior motive when she had asked the first question. Sneering, he swifty turned his head away from her. "That's none of your business."

"Are you _ever_ going to tell me about her?"

Regardless of the fact that he still wasn't stable on his feet, Snape shot up, grabbing the couch for leverage. "No," he hissed. Before she could protest, he pinned her with a fierce glare. "That information is none of your concern, Granger. So I suggest you leash that tongue of yours." Sneering, he turned on his heel and strolled over to the brewing table, signally the end of their discussion.

Sighing, Hermione stood and crossed to the portrait. Normally she would be quite willing to keep pushing, but today she felt far too tired to continue their petty arguments. Her hand gently resting against the portrait, she paused for a moment and glanced over her shoulder only to find he had his back turned toward her. What was so terrible about his past with Morgan that made him so defensive? Turning away, she slipped through the portrait and started down the corridor. One thing she was sure of was that Inspector Comonar _did_ know Morgan. And if she played her cards correctly, she might be able to get some information about Morgan out of the inspector during his next visit to the castle.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>By the time Neville, Harry and Ron had stumbled out of the boy's dormitory, Hermione had been waiting in the Gryffindor common room for over an hour. She hadn't felt like wandering the empty halls with only her never ending need to ask questions to keep her company. Her obsessive curiosity had started to bother her and she had begun to understand Neville's description of her personality. As she sat waiting by the fireplace, several other Gryffindors had passed by. Some of them had hardly spared her a glance, while others had clearly recognized her and scanned her over with confused expressions. She knew she would only be able to get by on the 'recovering from a bad blow to the head' excuse for so long, but she hoped that by the time the novelty wore off that most of the students would have adjusted to her altered appearance. Though the awkward stares didn't provide her with much comfort, she somehow felt far more relaxed in the common room than she would have if she had stayed in the dungeons with Snape.<p>

The boys slowly descended the stairs, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Neville, who seemed to be the most awake of the three, smiled the moment he noticed her. Nudging Ron and Harry, he led the way to the plush, red couch in front of the fireplace, taking a seat next to her without hesitation.

"Hey, Hermione."

Much to Hermione's relief, Harry's nose had stopped bleeding and he had gotten himself cleaned up since last night. She offered them a small smile, not really sure what to say just yet. Though Ron had already seen her last night in the Great Hall, he still seemed thrown off when looking at her. He stood by one of the chairs near the couch, eying her uncomfortably. For some reason he seemed to be the most unsettled by the changes in her, though she couldn't quite understand why. At very least, he refrained from opening gawking at her like he had last night.

Harry, who hadn't gotten a good look at her yet, walked right over and sat down on the other unoccupied chair. It wasn't until he had settled himself that he finally looked at her, his mouth dropping a little as he looked her over. Thankfully, he seemed to have more tact that Ron had. Clearing his throat, he gave Hermione a small smile. "Hey, Hermione. You feeling better today?"

Catching Neville's eye, he tilted his chin slightly in a barely noticeable nod meant only for her. He must have passed the fabricated story of the accident on to Harry after she had left the Great Hall. With each day that passed by, she found herself becoming more and more grateful to have Neville on her side. Though she had started to wonder what she had ever done to deserve such loyalty. Turning her attention to Harry, she nodded. "A little, yes."

"Good," Harry's smile widened. "Was worried about you when you dashed out of the Great Hall like that."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Pausing for a moment, she gathered her thoughts so she could attempt to pull off a convincing lie. "Since the accident I've had a really upset stomach so when I saw the blood-"

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, Hermione!" Harry interjected. He leaned forward with a rather disgruntled expression. "I wish I had known or I would have done something to make it easier on you."

"It's okay," she offered gently. Catching Neville's eye again, she noticed a strange look on his face. "Really," she pressed on, trying to ignore Neville's all too knowing expression. "I never wrote to you when I woke up last week, so you couldn't have known." Feeling rather uncomfortable now, she decided to swiftly change the topic. "So what did I miss after I left?"

Her question seemed to jog Ron out of his stupor. Finally tearing his eyes away from her, he threw his arms up with a sigh and tossed himself down on the chair next to him. "Snape is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!" he exclaimed. "I never thought Dumbledore would _actually_ give him the post. Maybe the old man has finally cracked."

Harry and Neville laughed but Hermione sat silently. What was so wrong with Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? Based on what he had told her about the war, and on what she had pieced together based on what he specifically _hadn__'t_ told her, Snape had played a large part in the wars. Leaning forward, she couldn't resist asking. "Isn't Snape rather qualified for the post?"

"Yeah, in the Dark Arts. But in Defense?" Crossing his arms, Ron shuttered. "I never really liked him much in Potions, but now I have to be in the same room as the guy while he's got his wand in his hand? No thanks!"

"You don't really have a choice if you want to become an Auror, Ron," Harry jumped in, "But, just look at it this way, no Defense teacher has ever lasted more than a year, so we'll be rid of him by the summer."

Grinning, Harry and Ron continued to express their distaste for Snape's new position. Neville piped in on occasion, though he seemed less willing to outright bash Snape's character. Watching them cautiously, Hermione sat back in her chair in silence. She didn't like Snape any better than the rest of them, but she couldn't afford to go without him anytime soon. She hated being so dependent on him, but she didn't really have any other option. The Ministry had her on their radar now and without Snape's help, she would land herself a one way ticket to her execution. Even so, she couldn't find the courage in her to stop them from speaking badly about him.

As they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast the conversation slowly moved to the new Potions teacher, Horace Slughorn. On the way down one of the many moving staircases, Harry filled them in a little about the visit he and Dumbledore had paid the old Potions teacher. He explained how hesitant Slughorn had been but that in the end he had agreed to return to Hogwarts. When he moved on to discuss Slughorn's interest in promising students, Ron and Harry suddenly seemed extremely focused on Hermione and Neville.

"Well Dumbledore _did_ select you two as part of the summer internship," Ron reminded them as he dropped down on the bench at the Gryffindor table. "I wouldn't be surprised if Slughorn comes after you guys."

"I doubt it," Neville added between mouthfuls of bacon. "I only got selected because Madam Sprout insisted. Plus, why would Slughorn be interested in Gryffindors? Wasn't he Head of Slytherin at one point?"

"Yes," Harry paused with a slightly distant look in his eyes. Shaking his head lightly, he added, "But my mom was a Gryffindor and she had been part of the Slugclub when she was in school."

While the boys seemed distracted by Harry's revelation, Hermione found herself caught up on what Neville had said. Why had he so quickly dismissed his talent for Herbology? Frowning, she put her utensils down on the table. "You make it sound like you didn't deserve the internship. I've seen your work in the greenhouses, Neville. It's amazing."

A deep blush crept across Neville's face and he waved his hands dismissively. "Yeah but that's nothing. Besides, no one like Slughorn would be interested in someone with a green thumb," he mumbled, his eyes focused on his plate.

Harry and Ron had been too deep in their own conversation and had completely missed the exchange between her and Neville. Shocked, Hermione sat back in her chair and examined Neville as he quickly returned to his breakfast. Before the term had started, Neville had been incredibly outgoing and quite proud of his Herbology skills. But now she felt like she hardly recognized the shy, submissive boy in front of her. All his energy seemed to have disappeared overnight, his carefree smile rarely showing itself. Something about it didn't sit right with her. Why would he suddenly clam up now that term had started?

As breakfast come to close and they left the Great Hall, Hermione grabbed Neville's arm and pulled him aside. When Harry and Ron paused, she waved them on encouragingly "You two go on. I'll see you after Potions." Shrugging, they strode up the stairs and disappeared around the corner. Once they were out of site, she turned to Neville who had been watching her with a confused expression. "What's going on?"

"What?"

"You're not acting like yourself. Is everything okay?"

As the realization of her words slowly dawned on him, he turned his head away, hiding his face from view. "Oh, _that_. It's nothing, really."

"Neville," she hissed under her breath, pulling him further away from the rest of the students filing out of the Great Hall. "I'm not going to accept that. You made me promise not to lie to you. Now I expect the same in return. So, talk. What's wrong?"

Sighing, Neville finally met her gaze. "I ..." Pausing, he shook his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Thrown off, she dropped her hand from his arm. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I've been taking advantage of your Amnesia." When she stared at him in utter confusion, he pressed on. "When I started at Hogwarts, I was a terrible wizard. I couldn't cast a spell or mix a potion to save my life. I would forget everything all the time and I was seen as an complete failure by most of the school. Even the teachers could see my shortcomings from a mile away, though most of them were too kind to say anything directly ... well, except for Snape." Crossing his arms, he glanced at the floor. "Honestly I'm not that much better today, but now I've actually found my passion. I'm comfortable with not being the best with a wand because I enjoy working in the greenhouses. But ..."

As he paused, he backed away a little as if he felt the need to protect himself. Respecting his desire for a little space, she merely pressed on with her words. "But?"

"You don't remember me that way. You have no memories of all the times I melted a cauldron, or mixed up a spell. You don't look at me like I've failed at anything. So I ..." summoning the courage to keep going, he brought his eyes back to hers. "I thought I could starts fresh with you, you know? Like I could redefine who I am in your eyes, that way all you would know is who I feel I am now."

The impact of his words hit her like a brick to the head. The pure sincerity dripping from his words felt almost like a dagger to the heart. She had no idea that the whole time she had been with him, he had been doing exactly what she herself had been attempting to do; to rediscover himself and find the confidence to project that new self image to the world. Though their circumstances were as different as night and day, they were somehow more alike than she had realized. Swallowing the wave of empathy she felt flooding her senses, she stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "But now?"

Sighing, Neville gave her a rather depressing smile. "But now that the others are here, I don't feel that confident anymore. They still remember ... and I don't think they will ever be able to forget." Shuffling his feet, his smile warmed a little. "I feel like I can be anything I want when I'm with you, Hermione, because you don't judge me." When she opened her mouth, he hastily continued. "The others don't mean to, I know that. But they can't help it sometimes."

Did he realized how much she understood? Their friends couldn't help but accidentally compare him when the images of his errors were to strong in their minds. And now that Neville had mentioned it, she realized their interpretation of her wouldn't be all that different. No matter how she felt about herself, they would always see her as the 'perfection obsessed, schedule dependent, research starved' girl that she had apparently always been. But at least she could count on one person to see her differently. "Well, you don't judge me either," she replied with a smile.

For a while they stood in silence appreciating the mutual emotional support. Thinking back on the stories Neville had told her when he had taken her on the tour of the castle, she wondered if the turning point for him had been the fight in the Department of Mysteries. After a minute, Neville shrugged and his own smile became even more genuine. "It's not my place to judge. And maybe one day I'll be able to show the others how I feel too, but right now I'm okay with it just being with you. This way you can keep my secret while I keep yours."

Hermione's eyes widened a little. "My secret?" she questioned, though a little too quickly.

"About your Amnesia."

Letting out a light breath, Hermione relaxed a little. It had almost sounded like Neville had admitted to knowing more about her situation than he should. Had she merely read into his words too much? Maybe the meeting with Inspector Comonar had started to make her paranoid. Shaking the thought off, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Neville's neck, pulling him into a comfortable hug. "They'll come around eventually."

"Maybe," he whispered.

Pulling back, her mind drifted to what he had said earlier. Despite the rest of the conversation, she couldn't stop a small chuckle from escaping her lips. "Did you ... really melt a cauldron?"

Laughing suddenly, Neville shrugged. "Several, actually. It's my specialty, apparently." Laughing a little harder, he added, "I think Snape had been looking forward to being rid of me this year. But since he's teaching Defense now, guess he's stuck with me again. Least this time I can't melt anything."

"You aren't taking Potions?"

"No; I didn't really do all that well in my Potion O.W.L. Besides, I don't really need it with my career plans. I still need Defense though. But," grabbing Hermione's sleeve, he tugged her toward the dungeons. "_You_ do attend Potions still. As much as I appreciate this, Hermione, you don't want to be late for class. So you might want to get going."

"Oh, right." She had completely forgotten all about her classes. She found it very easy to lose track of time when she was around him. Nodding, Hermione started toward the dungeons while Neville climbed up the stairs leading to the upper areas of the castle. Pausing at the entrance to the dungeons, she waited for Neville to reach the top of the first staircase. "Hey, Neville?" When he paused, turning to look at her, she smiled. "Thanks for being honest with me."

Returning her warm smile, he shrugged. "Thanks for listening."

With little more to be said, the two parted ways with a strong mutual appreciation for each other. Hermione swiftly skipped down the stairs to the dungeons feeling much happier than she had when she had been in the dungeons earlier that morning. As she rushed down the corridors, she only hoped she wouldn't be late arriving to Slughorn's class. The last thing she needed right now would be to be the center of attention.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> As I may have mentioned before, I plan on this story being rather long, so that the character relationships can develop properly and so you can get all the information I indeed to include. I don't see the point in rushing through important developments. So, that said, I hope you all continue to keep reading. I am aiming to update every 2-3 days so that, even though it will be a long story, you won't be waiting forever for it to finish. Also, I would like to point out that I have been writing this whole time **without** a Beta reader. So ... if there are any glaring errors, that's why. But I am trying my best to properly proofread, reference, and edit my material before posting it. Thanks again for all your reviews, favs, and follows!_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Long but Important Author's_**_** Note:** I want to be clear on this now; some of the events from the sixth book will still play a part in this story, but there are going to be a lot of changes too. That said, I will **not** be rehashing the same conversations that J.K. Rowling wrote. While I will be keeping some of the scenes generally the same, I will be rewriting the conversations that take place _**_from scratch_**_. So don't be surprised when you read the Potions classroom scene and notice that its not quite the same as in the books. Also, please note that sometimes I favor the version of a scene from the films over the books.  
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_Thanks for all your support! I would really like to encourage those readers who have not reviewed to please do so. Honestly, it has been driving me nuts seeing how many people are watching the story but not seeing very many of you reviewing. I am not looking for a pat on the back, but I would love to hear your thoughts, impressions, theories, questions. Anything! Seriously, your comments really help authors out, so please, if you haven't reviewed, I would really love to hear from you! And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed already!_

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><p>Much to Hermione's relief, she had arrived just in time. But since she had been nearly the last person to enter the classroom, everyone's attention had still fallen on her. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable under the many watchful eyes, she quickly slipped behind the group and ducked her head in the hope that they would soon ignore her. Thankfully, Slughorn choose that moment to wander in, diverting everyone's attention. Letting out a sigh of relief, she lifted her head with the intention of focusing on Slughorn as well, but startled when she found herself eye to eye with someone else entirely.<p>

She had been so distracted by the unwanted attention that she hadn't noticed she wasn't alone in the back of the classroom. A tall, slim Slytherin with bright blonde hair stood not far from her, his gaze locked with hers. Based on what Neville had told her about Slytherin house, she expected the young man to be glaring with disgust. Instead she found him studying her with a concentrated frown. They silently held each other's gaze for a moment, both appearing equally confused. It wasn't until Slughorn addressed the class that a sneer crossed the Slytherin's face and he turned away.

"Welcome, sixth years!" Shughorn exclaimed, his arms open in greeting "As you already know, I am Professor Slughorn. It has been a great many years since I last set foot in this classroom, so let us hope I still know what I'm doing." He laughed at his own joke, but quickly sobered when no one joined him. Clearing his throat, he continued. "You are all here because you proved yourself during your O.W.L. exam, which means we can move on to the much more complicated and deadly concoctions. As long as you do as you are instructed, all shall go well. But let me warn you, carelessness will not be tolerated here."

As he opened his mouth to continue, load footsteps echoed through the corridor as Harry and Ron came sauntering through the open door, both looking rather displeased. What were they doing here? She distinctly remembered both Harry and Ron this morning saying their Potions O.W.L. grade hadn't been sufficient enough for them to continue the class. Realizing they had just interrupted the class, the two looked awkwardly at each other before turning back to Slughorn.

"Sorry, Professor Slughorn, sir. Professor McGonagall sent us."

Shrugging, Slughorn gave the boys a small nod of acceptance. "Not to worry, Mr. Potter. Please get your books out and join the others so we can begin."

Harry and Ron glanced nervously at each other. "We don't have the book, sir. We didn't expect to be attending this year," Ron stammered.

"Not to worry. There are some extras in the cupboard," Slughorn replied, waving dismissively to the cabinets behind them.

The boys traveled to the cabinets as Slughorn turned back to the rest of the students. Hermione tried to focus but found it very difficult to listen to the Professor as she watched the two boys behind him. After opening the cupboard door they seemed to have a silent, though rather physical, battle over the remaining textbooks. In the end, Ron stepped away first with a fresh copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ in hand while Harry came away with an old, ratty, barely useable copy. A small smile crossed her lips as she watched the silent exchange. _Boys_.

With their tussle over, her attention finally drifted back to Slughorn. He stood in front of a series of potions, some already contained in vials, while others were still brewing. Pausing at one of the potions still sitting in an active cauldron, Slughorn gestured to it with a small smile.

"Can any of you identify this particular potion?"

Hermione knew the answer within a single glance. The steam rose from the cauldron in an elegant spiral and when she stretched her neck she could see the barest hit of a delicate mother-of-pearl sheen over the surface of the mixture. But she hesitated, afraid of drawing attention to herself. However, after a minute of absolute silence from the rest of the class, she let out a sigh and lifted her hand.

"Ah, yes, Miss ...?"

"Granger, sir." Instantly everyone's eyes were on her. Swallowing her fear, she carried on. "It's Amortentia; the most power love potion in the world."

"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor." As Slughorn moved around the brewing table, she noticed several of the girls in the room suddenly looked extremely interested in the lesson. Realizing it must be due to the love potion, Hermione rolled her eyes. Were the girls in the castle really _that_ boy crazy? "Amortentia smells different to each person based on what attracts them," Slughorn continued. "Who would like to take a sniff?"

Despite the number of interested girls in the room, no one stepped forward. Instead they exchanged several nervous expressions, some giggling under their breath.

"I will, sir." Everyone startled as Harry stepped forward. Even Ron jolted in shock, gazing open-mouthed at his best friend like he had lost his mind. Hermione studied Harry as he moved to the table and leaned forward to smell the potion. Why had he volunteered? Was he trying to get Slughorn's attention? After a moment, Harry straightened. "I smell Treacle tart, a broomstick handle, and ..." A slight blush appeared on his cheeks as he shook his head and stepped back into the group of students. "That's it."

"Excellent, Mr. Potter." Moving a little further down the table, Slughorn grabbed a tiny vial of molten gold liquid, holding it up for the class to see. "And can anyone identify this one?"

"Felix Felicis," Hermione found herself answering before she could think about it. She cringed the moment the words were out of her mouth as everyone's attention returned to her. _Damn it_, she thought. Maybe Snape had been right; she needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut. Swallowing, she hastily added, "It's also known as liquid luck."

"Fantastic, Miss Granger. Another five points to Gryffindor." Stepping around the table, Slughorn paced in front of the students with the small vial still in hand. "This potion can be very useful but it can also be very dangerous. When brewed properly, a small amount is all that is needed to bring the drinker seemingly endless luck. But if it brewed incorrectly, it can be disastrous. Now," gesturing to empty desks around the classroom, Slughorn smiled. "your challenge for today is to brew Draught of Living Death. And whoever succeeds in brewing it the best will receive this vial of liquid luck."

A few gasps were heard throughout the silent room before the excited students started shuffling off to the tables to begin brewing. Not sure who else she would feel comfortable working with, Hermione slipped over to the table Harry and Ron had claimed. Setting to work, Hermione pulled her own textbook out of her bag and flipped it open to page ten.

Using her wand she ignited the burner beneath the cauldron and ensured it had been filled with the correct amount of water. Levitating a small blue beaker, she carefully measured 250 fl. oz. of water and 5 oz. of African sea salt, pouring them both into the beaker. Careful not to shake the salt water, she lowered the beaker to the side of the table. She paused to scan over the recipe, giving the water five minutes to set before slowly pouring it into the cauldron. She then grabbed the graduated cylinder to her right and used it to extract 40 fl. oz. of essence of wormwood, which she then carefully added to the cauldron.

Glancing at her partners across the table, Hermione noticed something odd about the method Harry used to add the essence of wormwood. Instead of adding all 40 fl. oz., he poured half of the essence into the cauldron, which he grasped with his right hand and held it tilted at a slight angle. He then swiftly changed hands, using his left hand to hold the cauldron at a slightly different angle before adding the rest of the essence. Frowning, Hermione glanced down at the textbook. She understood that part of the process of brewing a potion was more than just throwing ingredients together and that some concoctions did indeed require the use of certain hands at certain stages. A witch or wizard's magic would always slowly seep out through their body into the potion they were brewing, but the amount of magic that passed through them would change based on whether or not they were using their dominant hand. But the instructions didn't indicate that that would be of any concern. Confused, she felt tempted to correct him, but she decided against it. She wanted to help him, but she also wanted to get her own potion finished in a timely manner.

Shrugging it off, Hermione turned her focus back on her own workstation. Grabbing a small silver blade and three Valerian roots, she sliced them into small squares, then levitated them into a small green beaker filled with water. As she waited for the roots to soak, she moved on to the Sopophorous beans. Or at least, she tried to. The beans were difficult to cut and even attempting to hold them still with magic proved to be difficult. After a few frustrating attempts to extract the juice from the beans, she sighed, putting the blade down on the table.

Glancing around the room she felt relieved when she noticed that the rest of the class were also struggling with their beans. Rolling her shoulders, she took hold of the blade once more, intending to try again when something across the table caught her eye. Her gaze drifted to Harry, who had a wide grin on his face as he carefully added the full amount of Sopophorous juice.

"How did you do that?"

"What?" Looking up from his cauldron, Harry's puzzlement quickly changed to excitement. "Oh, you have to crush them with your blade. Cutting them is useless."

Confused, Hermione turned back to the textbook once more. Scanning it over, she saw nothing to back up Harry's method. Shooting her head back up, she opened her mouth to argue but the words fell silent on her tongue as she watched Harry successfully finish mixing in the juice with the rest of his potion. Chancing a look at Ron, she noticed that she wasn't the only one shocked by Harry's ease. Eying Harry suspiciously, she returned to her own cutting board and started crushing the beans with the side of the blade. When the juice easily spilled out of the bean's hard shell, she found herself speechless. Trying her best to push passed the shock, she carefully added the juice to her own cauldron before adding the required seven drops of the root water from the green beaker she had set aside.

With the ladle in hand, Hermione gently stirred the brew clockwise ten times as she peered across the table at Harry. There was something odd about his potion skills. As she watched him, she saw him bent over his textbook almost protectively as he read the next set of instructions. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed up onto her tiptoes to get a better look at the book. As Harry straightened up, she could have sworn she saw hand written notes around the margins of the page. That's when it hit her; Harry was _cheating_. While she should have been outraged, something else struck her at the same time. Why was Harry's book full of additional notes? And why were the textbook instructions not enough?

Following the ten clockwise motions, Hermione moved on to the slow, counterclockwise stirring. If done correctly her potion would have changed to be completely clear as if it was nothing more than water. But when her potion only turned mostly clear with a hint of fogginess, she quickly caught sight of Harry again and noticing he had been stirring his potion specifically with his _right_ hand. Now incredibly frustrated, she decided to watch everything Harry did for the rest of the process. At this point she knew her potion wouldn't be perfect, but she would do everything necessary to get it as close as possible.

She added the required seven pieces of Valerian root and then started stirring the mixture with another series of counterclockwise motions. The textbook instructed to do so seven times but she instead followed Harry's example. He completed the seventh stir and suddenly did one clockwise stir before pouring in the instructed 150 fl. oz. of powdered root of asphodel. He then began stirring again, doing the exact same thing he did last time; seven counterclockwise, followed by one clockwise. After carefully copying his movements, they both set the ladles aside and let the cauldrons sit for a few minutes.

Ron looked up at that moment and his mouth dropped in an expression of absolutely horror. "You guys are done? How?"

Harry shrugged, trying to come off casual, but Hermione wasn't going to let him get away with it. Not only had he cheated, but he had kept the notes from his copy of of the textbook a secret. Crossing her arms, Hermione pinned Harry with a glare. "Harry cheated, that's how."

"What?" Ron hissed, leaning closer to them so no one else could hear them. "How?"

A look of panic jumped across Harry's face as he scooped up his textbook, slamming it shut and stuffing it into his bad. "I didn't cheat. I just followed the instructions."

"Liar. I saw the notes in that book, Harry," she snapped, reaching for his bag. "Give me that book."

"No," Harry shot back, shifting his body away from her.

"Wait, are you telling me I fought you over the _wrong_ book?" Ron added sounding rather put out.

"Ron!" Hermione glanced around the room to make sure Slughorn wasn't near before continuing. "You shouldn't be wishing you were the one cheating. It's wrong no matter who is doing it. Now give me that book."

"No," Harry repeated, holding his bag protectively. "It's harmless, Hermione. Just let it go."

Before she could mange a retort, Slughorn suddenly slipped over to their table with a jolly expression. "How are things over here, Mr. Potter?"

"Just fine, sir." Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glares that only Ron noticed. "Hermione and I are finished."

"Really?" Staring at them in surprise, Slughorn studied them carefully. "Only one student in my whole career had been able to finish this potions so quickly. I daresay you two are ones to watch out for." A proud smile spread across his face as he leaned in to check their cauldrons. Behind his back, Hermione shot Harry another glare which he merely shrugged off. As Slughorn straightened, his smile grew even brighter. "I must say, Miss Granger. You did a very good job. Very few students come as close as you have. But," turning to Harry, Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder. "I am most pleased with Mr. Potter, here."

As Harry and Slughorn fell into excited conversation about his performance, Hermione crossed her arms and silently raged. She could care less about the vial of liquid luck. What bothered her was what Harry did to earn it. She felt tempted to mention it Slughorn, but held her tongue. Speaking up would just make her look like a sore loser.

As the class came to a close, Hermione hastily packed her bag and swept from the room before Harry and Ron had finished cleaning up. As she marched her way out of the dungeons and up the moving staircases towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she vowed to get a hold of that book, one way or another.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's Note: _**_I am using J.K. Rowlings intro to Snape's class from the books because honestly there is no better way for Snape to talk about the Dark Arts. But the rest of the class will be of my own handiwork. Thanks again for your reviews, favs, and follows!_

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><p>Neville's head shot up as he heard hurried footsteps approaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He had been the first to arrive since he had a spare period first thing. Though he felt a little unnerved about being alone in the dark, eerie classroom, he had gotten tired of waiting around and decided to risk entering the room early. Grateful to find the room Snape free and completely deserted, he had selected the double desk at the very back of the middle row. In his previous years at Hogwarts he had always arrived last minute, leaving him with no option but to take one of the last remaining and far from optimal seats available. But now that Snape would be teaching Defense, he wanted to make sure he would be as far from the front of the classroom as possible.<p>

As the footsteps drew closer, he swallowed nervously. Was that Snape approaching? Just as he had started to doubt his decision to be first in the room, a slim female figure rounded the corner and stepped through the doorway. As she moved further into the room, Neville let out a harsh sigh and relaxed into his chair.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, Hermione," he teased with a gentle laugh.

"Sorry," she mumbled before throwing her bag down on the desk.

He had no idea what she had in the bag, but it might as well have been an entire library. The sound of the impact echoed off the stone walls making Neville flinch. He eyed her cautiously as she dropped into the second chair at the desk with a scowl on her face. "You okay?"

"Where do Harry and Ron usually sit?" she hissed, ignoring his question.

Blinking, Neville gestured toward the center of the room. "Closer to the middle."

"Good!" Finally catching the concerned look on his face, she sighed and crossed her arms. "Don't ask. I just don't want to be anywhere near them right now."

Raising a questioning eye brow, Neville examined her in silence. He had never seen her so angry but he knew it would have only be a matter of time before he witnessed the more drastic characteristics of her condition. Though he still found himself surprised that Harry and Ron had managed to enrage her so quickly on the first day. "What did they do?" he implored, disappointment dripping from his voice.

Turning to face him, she pinned Neville with a stern gaze. "What makes you think they did something?"

To her surprise, a broad smile spread across his face. "Because it's Harry and Ron. By now I have learned that if you guys are fighting, it's their fault."

The corridors suddenly erupted to life as the other classes in the castle came to a close. The students spilled out of the many classrooms, their thundering footfalls and excited conversations ringing through the halls. The knowledge that it would only be a matter of minutes before Harry and Ron made their way to the Defense classroom didn't help her temper. Sinking deeper into her seat, a low growl escaped her throat before she could stop it. Feeling a little embarrassed she turned away from Neville. What would he think of such a viscous, almost animal sound coming from his friend? After a moment of tense silence, she chanced a glace in his direction and could have sworn she saw a light smile on his lips. Was he _amused_?

Students started to trickle into the room, their joyous conversations seeming out of place in the darkness. Sighing, Hermione grabbed her bag and yanked it open so she could search for her Defense textbook. Neville watched in amused silence for a moment as she attempted to navigate her magically expanded bag. Her failed search was a testament to just how upset she had become. Grinning, he leaned toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You have a wand, you know."

She stared at him for a moment before the realization hit her. A light blush filled her pale cheeks as she extracted her wand from her robes. "_Accio 'Confronting the Faceless'_." As the book flew out of her bag, she caught Neville hiding his mouth behind his hands in an obvious attempt to avoid breaking into laughter. She placed the book down on the desk and crossed her arms with a huff. "Stop."

Clearing his throat, Neville leaned down to the side of the desk to retrieve his copy of the textbook. By the time he straightened up, he had managed to curb his laughter but he still had a broad smile plastered on his face. "Want me to hex Harry and Ron for you?" The glare she shot him finished him off. Curling forward over the desk, he folded his arms over the surface and buried his face into the sleeves of his robes to stifle his laughter.

Sighing, Hermione closed her bag and placed it on the floor beside her. She wanted to be mad at him, but somehow it felt impossible to hold any anger towards him. Rolling her eyes she left Neville to sober up and watched the rest of the class filter in. The blonde Slytherin who had sneered at her in Potions slipped into the room, pausing for a moment in the doorway. He scanned the room and when his eyes met hers, he shot her a fierce glare before striding swiftly passed them to the front of the room. Frowning, Hermione nudged Neville. "Who's the blonde Slytherin?"

Sitting up, all the humor drained from Neville's face and his kind smile morphed into a light grimace. "That's the one I told you about yesterday, Draco Malfoy."

"He doesn't seem to like me much."

"You two have a bit of history," Neville responded gently. "We all do, technically. But you're Muggle-born, so he really has it out for you."

"Fantastic," she mumbled.

As if to make her frustrations worse, Harry and Ron finally made their way into the classroom. They took notice of her and Neville immediately, waving as they moved to the middle of the room. Neville returned the gesture while Hermione shot them a glare and crossed her arms before turning her head away. Ron's eye brows shot up as he watched Hermione's reaction and he exchanged a look with Harry. Neither of them had realized just how upset she had been about the Potions book but they also didn't see the point in giving in about something so minor. They shrugged and took their seats deciding to give her time to cool off.

No sooner had they taken their seats, Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing out behind him. His strides were quick and long, and he reached the front of the room in no time. Spinning around on his heel, he glowered down at the room of students with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Glancing around the room, Hermione noticed that most of the students had suddenly stiffened, frozen in their chairs by his intimating entrance. Why were they all so afraid of him? Her eyes fell on Neville who seemed practically petrified. Rolling her eyes, Hermione leaned back against her chair. She didn't understand how putting on black clothes and glaring could so successfully scare the life out of a room of teenagers. Even with all the arguments she and Snape had engaged in, she never once viewed him as dangerous.

Snape waited just long enough for the desired effect to grip the room before he started to slowly pace in front of the desks. He relaxed his arms and extracted his wand from his robes. With a quick flick of his wrist the walls were suddenly covered with gruesome pictures of people in pain, with distributing injuries, or contorted limbs. A collective gasp sounded from the class as they examined the images, took stunned too look away. A light smirk played at Snape's lips as he continued to pace.

"The Dark Arts," he began softly, his voice easily carrying through the silent room, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Hermione stared at him. She assumed Snape had become well acquainted with the Dark Arts through becoming a Death Eater but she found herself stunned as he spoke about such magic in an almost loving manner. He fell silent and continued to pace, scanning the faces in the room. His gaze moved quickly but she noticed a slight pause as his eyes swept over hers and another pause as his gaze met Draco's.

"Your defenses," Snape continued, a little louder than before, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of the images around the room, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse," he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony, "feel the Dementor's Kiss," a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall, "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

Hermione turned her attention to the ghastly images around her. They were by nature rather disturbing, but somehow also quite fascinating. As she scanned the details of the victims in the pictures, she couldn't help but wonder if she would have found them just as interesting had she not lost her memories. Would her thirst for knowledge be enough to draw her attention or would she had cringed away like the rest of the class? A slight movement caught her eye and she turned her gaze to Neville who sat rigid in his seat, refusing to look at the pictures. His jaw was set and his hands were clenched in tight fists. Peering back to the front of the room, Snape had turned his back to the class and approached the blackboard behind his desk. Taking advantage of the situation, she gently nudged Neville's arm.

"You alright?"

His muscles remained stiff, but to her relief he relaxed his hands and sighed. "No, not really." When she opened her mouth to press further, he shook his head. "Later."

Frowning, she searched his expression. At first glace she would have said he looked afraid, but she quickly realized how wrong she was. He was _angry_. The shock of that observation shot through her like an bullet. She had never seen Neville so upset before. As Snape addressed the class again, she felt grateful for the distraction; the look in Neville's eyes had unsettled her more than any of the pictures on the walls.

"There will be plenty of time to get to all of these topics but first I want to ensure I am not teaching a room full of brainless cheats." Sneering, he locked his hands behind his back. "You may have received the required O.W.L. grades to continue on in your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons by the school standards, but let me make myself clear. If I had been your instructor for this subject last year, most of you wouldn't be here today." His piercing gaze flicked around the room, pausing momentarily on the faces of the students he had been referring to. Neville drew in a breath as Snape's eyes landed on him. The silent exchange between the professor and Hermione's best friend felt loaded with unexplained meaning, far beyond the excuse of grades. Though they only held each others gaze for a mere few seconds, it felt like an eternity before Snape finally tore his eyes away.

With another flick of his wand, the blackboard suddenly filled with diagrams and words written in chalk. Though Hermione should have been focused on the information that filled the board, she instead found herself studying the professor's handwriting. She may have been living with the man for the last week, but she had never seen his traditional yet distinguished cursive script before. For some reason the elegance of his writing surprised her; it had not been what she expected from the dark man.

"Since you are here regardless," he continued, breaking Hermione's silent musings, "you will now need to prove your worth in my classroom. I refuse to teach you the more advanced knowledge of Defense unless you can show me that you do indeed have a functioning brain. To test this theory, we will begin with Non-verbal spells." Slipping his wand back into his robes, he crossed his arms once more. "Today you will copy these notes and read through chapter thirteen. Non-verbal spells can be highly dangerous if used incorrectly so we will not be practicing them until you have a proper understanding of how they work. I would rather avoid sending several of you to the infirmary in a box."

Without further instruction, Snape moved to the large desk at the front of the room and slipped into the chair. The class silently opened their textbooks and retrieved their parchment and quills, beginning with their assignment without argument. Neville grumbled under his breath so only Hermione could hear him as he also flipped open his copy of _Confronting the Faceless_. She eyed him carefully, glad to see some of the anger had drained away. Turning to her own textbook, she peered over at Snape to find his head bent low over some parchment, his quill moving furiously across the page. Was he always this irritating in his classroom? Shaking her head lightly, she finally submitted to the task at hand, though she continued to glance at Neville periodically. She couldn't figure out what had gotten him so angry, but she committed herself to finding out as soon as the class finished.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's__ Note: _**_I plan on making the chapters longer going forward, so I hope you enjoy the length. Also, for anyone who was concerned about the interaction between Severus and Neville, just keep in mind that I have big plans for them. I also have plans for Draco ...  
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><p>Neville practically flew out of the classroom when Snape finally dismissed them. He had moved so fast that Hermione had to throw her materials into her bag and sprint to catch up to him. Thankfully he had stopped at the stairwell at the end of the corridor, though she wasn't sure if he had halted to wait for her or to catch his breath. Regardless, he still seemed rather upset about something. As she drew closer, he turned his body away slightly as if he felt the need to defend himself. Now highly concerned, she cautiously stepped closer to him.<p>

"What was that about?"

"What?" He frowned at her, attempting ignorance.

Sighing, she crossed her arms. Why did he always insist that she speak openly, while he would try to hide things from her? Had he not learned from their conversation earlier that morning that the honest dialog went both ways? "_You_, in the classroom," she pressed gently. When he merely shrugged and glanced away, she reached out and grabbed his arm to get his attention. "Neville," she hissed, "Malfoy could have gone to the greenhouses and destroyed all your projects, and you wouldn't have been as upset as you were in Snape's class. What's wrong?"

Students filed passed them on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Regardless of the noise around them, an uncomfortable silence lingered between them. It wasn't until most of the students had fled down the many moving stairwells before Neville finally sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "Snape's classes have always bothered me, Hermione. But today ..." Temporarily lost for words, his eyes studied the floor as if hoping the stone beneath his feet would give him comfort. "Today was different."

She studied her best friend in silence. Had it been Snape's jab about Neville's O.W.L. results that bothered him? No, that couldn't be right. Neville had clearly been upset before Snape had made mention of their grades. Thinking back to what had taken place in the Defense classroom, there had only been one other possibility for Neville's anger. Frowning, Hermione moved her hand from his arm to his shoulder in the hopes that her grip would provide him with some level of comfort.

"Was it the pictures?"

Nodding lightly, he lifted his chin and gave her a weak smile. "Not all of them. They were all rather unsightly but ..." Turning away again, he shifted his body so her hand dropped from his shoulder and leaned against the banister overlooking the stairs. "The victim of the Cruciatus curse ..."

As his voice trailed off, Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "Neville, have you-"

"Yes," he interjected, full well knowing what she had been about to ask. "In the Department of Mysteries." He paused, his eyes seeming distant as if he had drifted off into a memory. After a moment he shook his head and turned back around to face her. "My parents were tortured too, but I was a baby at the time. They've ... never been the same since." Sighing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted uncomfortably. "I've only ever told Harry this, so please don't say anything to anyone."

Hermione stood rooted in place, not sure what to say about his revelation. She had spent the past week feeling like no one could ever understand the suffering she had been reliving each night. And while she could guess the pain from the Cruciatus curse wouldn't feel the same as what she experienced in her nightmares, she felt a strange sense of relief just by knowing she wasn't alone. But as she watched Neville mentally suffering from the memories of his family and own experience with torture, she suddenly felt ill. How could she feel _happy_ about their mutual understanding of pain?

Doing her best to shove her unusual feelings and thoughts aside, she stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Momentarily shocked, he jolted at the contact but soon relaxed and leaned into her silent embrace, bringing his own arms around her thin frame. It had been in that moment that Hermione realized why she cared about him so much. It wasn't his kindness or selflessness, or even his loyalty. She loved him because he didn't need to talk to convey his thoughts or feelings. In all the times they had interacted in silence, she had learned more about what made him Neville than anything he could ever say. _If only everyone else could be like Neville._

When they finally pulled back all the tension had disappeared and they exchanged gentle, mutual smiles. The lack of expectations in their relationship left them both feeling incredibly comfortable. Neville slipped his hands back into his pockets and glanced around the deserted corridor. "We should head down to the Great Hall before lunch is over." After a simple nod of acknowledgement from Hermione, the two strode down the stairs, chatting on and off about lighthearted topics, leaving the painful conversation behind them.

When they entered the Great Hall, Hermione made a beeline for a set of empty seats as far from Harry and Ron as possible. After exchanging a glance and shrug with the two boys from across the room, Neville silently accompanied her. He wasn't sure how long she would stay angry with them, but until she calmed down he would remain by her side. He waited until she had filled her plate with her meal selections before deciding to venture into the questionable topic.

"So, you didn't answer me earlier. What did Harry and Ron do?"

Hermione sighed and paused between bites of her ham sandwich. "Harry cheated."

Neville gaped at her, his own sandwich resting in his hand forgotten. Had he just heard that right? He shook his head lightly in an effort to get his brain working again. "How?"

"He got a hold of someone's old copy of the text." She sounded rather bitter as she continued. "The previous owner of the book had made a bunch of alterations to the instructions."

"Wouldn't that make Harry's potion wrong?"

"Apparently not," she grumbled, poking absentmindedly at her lunch. "The textbook is wrong. And somehow the original owner of the book knew how to make the potion correctly."

Frowning, Neville lowered his sandwich and studied Hermione's face. He had never heard of a textbook being incorrect before. And even if the text had been wrong, he doubted it would be possible for a student to discover the necessary corrections. He leaned forward so the other students around them would be less likely to hear him. "Are you _sure_ he cheated?"

"Yes!" she stressed. When he didn't respond, she glanced up and found herself at the receiving end of his skeptical expression. She couldn't blame him for questioning the situation, but she still felt a little slighted by his inquiry. Her own food now forgotten, she crossed her arms tightly across her chest and glared across the table. "Slughorn even confirmed it when he said Harry's potion was the only one that had turned out perfectly."

Neville raised a questioning eye brow at her tone. He doubted Dumbledore would have hired Slughorn if the wizard had been off his rocker, so there had to be truth to what she said. But something about her anger seemed out of place. Was she _really_ upset about the altered textbook? "Hermione," he began delicately, not completely confident that he should breach the question, but he carried on regardless, "are you mad because Harry cheated or are you mad because he beat you?"

Shocked, she sat back and stared at him with a blank expression. She hadn't anticipated that question, especially from Neville. While the logical part of her brain knew he had the best of intentions in asking, it still felt like a slap in the face. Had she really always been _that_ much of a teacher's pet to warrant his inquiry? Her lips morphed into a sneer as she recovered. "Does it matter?" she hissed. "Harry still cheated regardless of how well I did."

Neville sighed. He didn't want to argue with her. He definitely agreed that using the old textbook to get better grades had been wrong, but getting good marks wasn't the end of the world. He glanced down the Gryffindor table at the two boys in question who were happily conversing with Dean and Seamus. Turning back to Hermione he decided to lighten the conversation a little. "So then why are you mad at Ron? Did he cheat too?"

"No. Harry kept the book hidden from us both." Catching Neville's frown, she hastily continued. "But Ron didn't exactly discourage him when he found out. He seemed more concerned with the fact that he hadn't snagged the book instead of Harry."

A small smile crossed Neville's lips. _That _definitely sounded like Ron. When he noticed Hermione's glare at his amusement, Neville cleared his throat and forced a straight face. "Are you going to report it?"

She studied him for a moment, honestly considering it. Reporting Harry's actions would technically be the simple solution, but what would stop him from hiding the book so he couldn't get in trouble? "No. At least not yet. I would need to get the book before I could go to Dumbledore about it."

Unable to help himself, Neville's smile returned. "I figured you would tell Snape."

She had just reached forward for her goblet but halted at his words. Narrowing her eyes, she pinned him with a suspicious glare. "Why?"

"Don't you live with him now?"

Startled by his bluntness, she quickly glanced around the the table to make sure none of the students had hear him. "Neville!"

"Sorry, Hermione," he chuckled, sounding far from apologetic. "I just figured you would tell him since you see him all the time."

"It's not like I _choose_ to be rooming with him," she shot back in a harsh whisper, her pale cheeks flushing. "And how do you even know that?"

Shrugging, Neville grabbed his sandwich and took a large bite. "I figured it out last week." She stared at him in stunned silence as he finished off his sandwich and took a drink of pumpkin juice. When he lowered his goblet, he almost choked at the look on her face. He quickly swallowed before he started laughing too hard to do so safely. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I would hope not," she finally managed in a strained voice. For someone who seemed to dislike the dark professor so much, he seemed far too accepting of her living arrangements. Unable to dance around the topic, she sighed and slouched in her seat. "You know too much for your own good, Neville."

A broad grin stretched across his soft features. "More than you know," he muttered behind his goblet, speaking softly so she couldn't hear him. They feel into silence for a few minutes before they shrugged the topic off and continued their meal speaking about anything but Severus Snape.

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><p>Hermione and Neville had parted ways after lunch as Defense had been the only class they shared on Mondays. She attended Ancient Runes with Professor Babbling and a very small selection of students. She had been worried about how much she would stand out among such a small group, but thankfully Babbling didn't operate her class in the same open forum as Slughorn had. She had become so enthralled with the lesson that she felt rather disappointed when Babbling had dismissed the class. After collecting her materials, Hermione traveled to the Arithmancy classroom on the seventh floor. As much as she had enjoyed Ancient Runes, she felt the excitement bubbling inside her like an active cauldron as she stepped into Professor Vector's class.<p>

Vector, assuming those who had passed their Arithmancy O.W.L. didn't need a refresher, jumped right into the sixth year material. Something about her reminded Hermione of McGonagall; both seemed to hold themselves with the same stern, but wise and confident air. After working through several complicated equations, Vector tasked them with designing a personal, year long project of their choosing. Her only stipulation had been that their equations be about someone other than themselves. When a few groans escaped the small class, she instantly silenced their complaints.

"There is nothing more dangerous than playing with the predictions of your own future. Many witches and wizards have driven themselves crazy or even into an unfortunate demise with the information they have collected about themselves." Stepping up to her desk at the front of the room, she crossed her arms and gazed at each student with a firm stare. "All forms of magic can be dangerous when handled improperly and Arithmancy is no different, which is something that I would hope you all understand by now. There will be no exceptions. And I will need to know who your chosen subject is by the beginning of class next week." With a simple wave of her hand she dismissed the class before sitting at her desk to work on her other lesson plans.

Hermione quickly packed her bag and slipped out of the room, her mind racing through concepts for her project. In order to receive a correct series of equations, her subject would need to be someone she could openly interview. The more information she could retrieve about the person, the more accurate the results would be. She momentarily considered Harry or Ron, but quickly shot down the thought. She knew she couldn't stay angry at them forever, but she also had a feeling that this would not be the only fight between them. It wasn't until she reached the Great Hall and noticed Neville standing just outside the large doors waiting for her that she realized she already had the perfect subject. Smiling, she happily let him escort her into the Hall where they could discuss her project over a fresh, warm meal.

Following dinner, Hermione decided against accompanying Neville to the Gryffindor common room. She wasn't as upset about the Potions textbook anymore, but she still felt bothered enough that saying away from Harry and Ron for a little while longer sounded like the best option. She bid Neville goodnight before following behind a small group of Slytherins into the dungeons. She hung back far enough for to avoid being noticed by the group and waiting for them to turn down the corridor leading to the Slytherin common room before darting down the opposite passage.

As she reached the end of the corridor, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as a feeling a being watched washed over her. Pausing before rounding the corner, she glanced behind her and found herself eye to eye with Draco. He stood between the two passages, his body turned toward away. It looked like he had been on his way to the common room when he spotted her. The longer they held each others gaze, the more intense his glare became. What was his problem? Whatever it was, it definitely felt like it involved much more than just the Muggle-born issue Neville had talked about. She waited, hoping Draco would be the first to break their eye contact but he refused to look away. She swallowed nervously and decided to gave in, turning away and swiftly rounding the corner. She listened to see if he would follow her but the only sounds were that of her own footsteps. Letting out a sigh, she approached the portrait to the sitting room. Eventually she would need to find out why Draco seemed so hostile towards her, but that confrontation could wait. All she desired right now was the comfort of her bed.

As she stepped into the sitting room, she noticed Snape sitting at his desk, his body hunched over a collection of parchment. He held a quill firmly in his right hand, moving it swiftly across a piece of parchment he had selected from the pile. He completely ignored her entrance as he continued his crusade against the student's assignment. She had intended on going straight to their bedroom when the memory of Snape's Defense class came flooding back. Once again grasping at the confidence she received from her constant anger towards the dark professor, she stood behind him with her arms crossed, pinning the back of his head with a glare.

"How were your other classes?" she inquired in a highly snarky tone. He paused, his head lifting slightly but he did not turn toward her. She waited to see if he would respond, but he instead returned to his marking without a word. She narrowed her eyes and pressed on. "Scare the life out of any first years today?"

Snape halted instantly. Quill still in hand, he turned slowly toward her with a sneer on his face. "What I do in my classroom is none of your concern. I don't have to answer to my pupils, Granger, least of all you."

"I live with you, _Professor. _I think that gives me more privileges than the rest of the student body." she snapped back.

After a moment of tense silence, Snape placed his quill down and pinned her with a fierce glare. "You have no more privileges than your peers, regardless of the situation. You live with me because you are dangerous."

"And you're not?" Snape's face darkened at the silent reference to his years as a Death Eater. But his dark expression did not deter Hermione in the slightest. Her anger kept her pushing forward. "With the way to treat your students, I'm shocked you're still employed."

Following another minute of silence, a small smirk crossed Snape's lips. "If I were you, I would heed my warning from this morning. Leash that tongue before it gets you into trouble."

"Or what?" she challenged. "You just said I am no different than the rest of the students."

"_You_ don't have any extra privileges, Granger, but _I_ do," he replied in a deadly tone. "Especially when it comes to you."

"And what about Neville?"

Caught off guard by her question, he stared at her with an unreadable expression. Was her anger honestly all because of _Neville_? He knew the two had grown close in the last week, as he had seen their interactions with each other. But she sounded almost possessive of him. He felt tempted to question her about their relationship but decided against it. He turned away from her, picked up his quill and returned to the assignments at his desk. "As I said before, what I do in my classroom is none of your concern."

He could feel her angry glare burning into his back but he refused to acknowledge her. He wouldn't humor her any longer. After few minutes he heard her huff angrily and stomp off towards the bedroom. He heard her open the door but then silence followed. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her standing in the doorway, a defiant look in her eyes. As he turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him, he heard her mutter "You're an asshole" before she slammed the door closed between them.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

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><p>"My Lord."<p>

Snape had been about to retire for the night when the Dark Mark on his left arm had started to burn. He had spared a moment to ensure Hermione had been soundly asleep before slipping out of the castle and apparating to Malfoy Manor. Though Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to Azkaban over the summer due to the activities that transpired at the Ministry, the Manor had been offered up to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters by Narcissa in her husband's absence. When Snape had arrived, he found Narcissa in the sitting room along with Voldemort, but they were otherwise alone.

Gazing at the mistress of the house, he felt a small amount of pity for her and her family. With Lucius locked up, she felt like she had no choice but to offer up the Manor. The Dark Lord had been most displeased with Lucius's failure at the Ministry and would have looked for any opportunity to lay the blame on Narcissa and Draco as well. It had been for that very reason that she and her son had decided to give everything they had left to Voldemort and hope that it would be enough for their lives to be spared. Narcissa had been momentarily relieved when the Dark Lord accepted the Manor as his head quarters, but her relief had been short lived. He had been far from satisfied with their sacrifices and had decided to level the playing field, providing that Draco agreed to carry out a very important task.

Snape had been aware of the burden placed on the young Malfoy's shoulders. Being one of the few Death Eaters privileged enough to reside in the Dark Lords inner circle, he had been part of the discussion that had taken place about how to settle the Malfoy family's errors. It had taken very tricky negotiation skills between himself and Bellatrix to get Voldemort to arrive at a decision that did not involve merely ridding the world of the Malfoy bloodline. Bellatrix had come away from that meeting with a disgusting smile plastered on her face. She felt so _proud_ of her nephew's assignment and choose to strut out of the room as if the boy had been her own. Snape however had left swallowing his grief over the decision. He had done what needed to take place to keep Draco and his mother alive, but he wished there had been another solution. Draco was far too young to carry such a stain on his heart.

Snape moved a little further into the room and bowed his head respectfully to Voldemort. "You wished to see me?"

A small trace of a smile played at Voldemort's lips as he examined his most faithful Death Eater. As usual, Voldemort sent a light brush of Legitimancy to tease against Snape's constant mental shield. He had no intention of trying to break through the man's Occulmency defenses. Voldemort was no fool; he knew that Snape played both sides of the game but he believed that he knew where the professor's true loyalties resided. The gentle touch of his dark mind against that of Snape's merely served as heavy welcome and a reminder of his dominance. "Yes, Severus. Please, join us."

Snape stepped passed Voldemort and situated himself on the couch next to Narcissa. She gazed at him as he accompanied her but he refused to look at her. It would turn out badly for both of them if he displayed any form of sympathy for her family while in the presence of the Dark Lord. Voldemort slithered over to the high backed chair across from the couch and lowered himself onto the seat, his robes billowing like rolling fog. His movements were familiar to Snape, as he himself used similar intimidation methods but Narcissa went rigid beside him. As the wife of a Death Eater, a mere supporter of the cause, she had rarely been in the Dark Lord's presence until now.

Sitting up straight, Snape locked eyes with Voldemort. "What do you wish of me, my Lord?"

"As our only man on the inside, I assume you would know full well what I expect of you, Severus."

Snape tipped his chin, proving Voldemort with a slight nod of acknowledgement. "You wish for me to keep an eye on Draco."

"Ah, but there is much more to it than that, Severus." A twisted smirk spread across his snake-like appearance. "Merely keeping an eye on him could very well mean nothing in the end. You must ensure Draco is making progress. As you might remember from our ... deal, if Draco fails, so do those who supported him." The threat didn't surprise Snape; he had been well aware of the possible consequences of the negotiations made on Draco's behalf. Regardless of the risk, he felt a small amount of comfort knowing that if Draco _did_ fail, Bellatrix would also be punished.

Keeping his mind closed and his expression neutral, Snape nodded once more. "Of course, my Lord. I will keep Draco on track."

"See that you do, Severus. I would hate to see anything bad happen to you," Voldemort uttered in a violating and possessive tone. Ignoring the disturbing words, Snape remained still as a statue, continuing to hold the Dark Lord's gaze. Being Voldemort's most trusted Death Eater naturally came with plenty of unpleasantness that he had become well acquainted with long ago. "Though I _enjoy_ these private conversations with you Severus, I have other business to attend to."

Without providing Narcissa with any form of acknowledgement, Voldemort rose from the chair and swept from the room without another word. Both Snape and Narcissa remained still until the loud pop of apparation met their ears, signaling that Voldemort had left the Manor. Finally released from her frozen state, Narcissa let out a deep, shuddering sigh as she curled forward, placing her head in her hands. Snape watched her slowly fall apart in silence, unsure what to say. How did one comfort a mother whose son had been asked to kill in exchange for his own family's lives? He let her weep in silence for a few more minutes before finally breaking the otherwise silent atmosphere.

"This is the only way, Narcissa, or you'd already be dead."

"I know," she managed between gasps of air. "But he's just a boy, Severus."

"He's not far off from the age Lucius and I were when we received the Mark."

"And that's supposed to make it all better?" she snapped. Lifting her head, she pinned Snape with a tear filled glare. "You don't know what a family is, so don't even pretend to understand." Snape's eye narrowed, but he remained silent. He knew she wouldn't have said that if she hadn't been so distraught and he couldn't very well blame her in light of her current situation. It didn't take long before the anger slipped away from her and she cleared her throat, turning away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Severus."

"Don't be." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll do what I can to ensure Draco succeeds. You have my word."

A strange expression crossed her face, her brows furrowing. "I know you will. I trust you. But my sister ..."

"Your sister spent too much time in Azkaban. It is only natural she would be stupidly paranoid."

"Yes well ..." Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her eyes to his. "I'm sorry, Severus. But her distrust for you forced my hand and I didn't know what else to do."

He eyed Narcissa curiously. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Tearing her eyes away once more, she instead focused on a section of the plush rug beneath their feet. "You remember the meeting I had requested, don't you?"

"Of course." Narcissa had reached out to him shortly after Draco had received his assignment, asking to meet with him privately. He had intended to follow through with her request, and had even arranged a time and place to met. After all the years he had known her, Narcissa rarely asked for anything, so he knew what she needed to speak with him about had been important. However, he had no choice but to cancel the meeting after rescuing Hermione. There had been no telling when she would wake from her coma, and he needed to be available when she finally came to. "What of it?"

"I was scared, Severus. I didn't want to contact you while you were at Hogwarts, but I felt I had no choice. And I couldn't very well hide my intentions from Bellatrix. Draco is her family too." Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Draco and Bellatrix may be family by blood, but he knew Bellatrix only had love for one person and that she saw her family as mere tools in getting closer to the Dark Lord. She had only argued in Draco's favor for her own bragging rights. How her husband, Rodolphus, had always been so blind about her affections for Voldemort still baffled him. Bestowing Narcissa with a small nod, he waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. "She wouldn't allow me to meet with you alone, naturally," she continued. "So I agreed to let her be there too. But when you said you couldn't meet with me anymore, she completely lost it. She raged about your allegiance. It didn't matter what I said, she refused to let off of you." Narcissa shifted uncomfortably. "And I have to admit, she did have some valid arguments in regards to your loyalties."

"I'm sure she did," he responded dryly. "I have a job to do, Narcissa. Making my intentions difficult to interpret is part of it. You know that."

"Yes, I do." Despite the nature of the conversation, she smiled. "That's why I still trust you and why I had wanted your help. What I wanted of you is likely more than I have any right to ask, but I've become desperate, Severus." Drawing in a breath, she reluctantly pressed on. "But when you cancelled, Bellatrix insisted that we safeguard a way to keep Draco safe, regardless of your involvement."

It all came together in Snape's mind. Narcissa knew her son better than most would realized. She knew Draco would have difficulty swallowing the orders to kill Dumbledore. And even with Snape around to help keep him on task, Draco would in all likelihood fail to utter the two words that would end the old wizard's life. She had likely intended to ask Snape to personally take care of Dumbledore should her son back out, as she expected he might. But since he hadn't been able to meet with her, what had Bellatrix talked her sister into? Raising an eye brow, Snape studied Narcissa with an otherwise blank expression. "And the results?"

A heavy silence fell upon them as Narcissa fidgeted in her seat. Several tense minutes passed before she finally looked up at him. "She made the Vow."

Snape suddenly felt like his blood had gone cold. He didn't even bother masking the shock from his expression. Why would Bellatrix agree to such a thing? She cared little about what happened to her family so long as she looked good in Voldemort's eyes. Had she done it in a desperate attempt to earn points with the Dark Lord? Or had there been more behind her decision? Then it hit him. Bellatrix had taken the Unbreakable Vow to stop _him_ from doing so instead. She had always hated the high regard Voldemort bestowed on him and had taken the only opportunity she could find to try to one up him. If she were to be the one to kill Dumbledore, she would surely find herself at the top of the totem pole.

But that change was one he couldn't afford to allow. If Harry were to be successful in the slightest in the war, Snape needed to be the one to hold the Dark Lord's highest regard. Voldemort had to be willing to trust Snape with his life. And now Bellatrix had screwed everything up. Though the thought of forcing the Vow to kill her by taking out Dumbledore himself crossed his mind, he knew that wasn't an option either. That kind of betrayal would be too obvious after his history with Bellatrix and he wouldn't make it out of the school alive. He would have to speak with Dumbledore and soon. They needed a new plan.

He quickly regained his composure and shot Narcissa a harsh glare. "I see." Upon noticing her continue to shift uncomfortably, he added, "And this upsets you?"

"She's my sister."

"She's a lunatic."

"Well, yes but ..." Swallowing, Narcissa leaned forward and placed her hand on Snape's knee. "Severus, she doesn't understand the risk she is putting herself in. If she kills Dumbledore, the Dark Lord will have her in his sights at all times. And as you know, she isn't exactly of a sound mind." A slight smirk twitched at the corners of his lips. "If she makes a mistake while in that kind of position ..."

"Then it'll be of her own doing." When she opened her mouth to argue, Snape swiftly cut her off. "What did you expect me to say, Narcissa? Your sister made her choices long ago. If she messes up, she'll need to answer to her errors just like the rest of us."

To his surprise her eyes filled with tears again. The hand she had resting on his knee began to tremble as to spoke. "My husband is in Azkaban. My son and I are as good as dead. I can't risk losing my sister too."

The pain in her eyes had become so powerful that he found it difficult to respond. Though she would never know it, Snape understood her fear of losing someone more than anyone else Narcissa could possibly confide in. His shoulders dropped and he sighed. He knew he would regret the words he was about to speak, but he pressed forward regardless. "What do you want from me?"

A flicker of emotions ran through her eyes. Shock, confusion, uncertainty, and lastly, hope. The sight gripped at his heart. He had hope like that once, when he had been give a promise by the two most powerful wizards he knew to keep Lily safe. In the end, that hope had gotten him no where. But as he sat in the Manor with Narcissa, he didn't have the heart to turn her away. It had been that same hope that had kept him strong enough to keep going, even after the promises had been shattered. If he could do nothing more for Draco and Narcissa, at the very least he could do his best to help build them up. With that, if they were lucky, they might be able to survive the war.

She squeezed his knee, a fragile smile playing at her otherwise depressed expression. "Keep Bellatrix safe."

His body went rigid and his eyes widened. She couldn't possibly be serious. She had to know by now that it would give him great pleasure to see that disgusting excuse for a witch drop dead. He and Bellatrix hadn't exactly made their hate for each other a secret among the Death Eaters. He opened his mouth to refuse but the words lodged in his throat as he watched her teetering on the edge of another breakdown. He thought about what would have happened to him had Dumbledore and Voldemort outright refused his request and the mere suggestion made it hard to breath.

Though his expression showed nothing of the sort, he took a few more minutes to steady his own emotions before finally being able to speak. His decision made, he rested his own hand over that of her's which still resisted on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll do what I can."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I was going to have the soon to be next chapter as part of this one, but I feel the change in scene needs to be properly cut. Bonus, means you'll see another new chapter tomorrow because most of it has already been written. And for anyone wondering, I am going on the assumption that Snape has been "friends"/acquaintances with the Malfoys for a long time, thus he has a well standing history with Narcissa, which is why he responds the way he does to her. Thanks again for reading!  
><em>


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's Note:_** _I had planned on publishing this chapter a few days ago ... but then I had to rewrite the whole chapter. I hope you will all forgive my tardiness in favor of receiving a much higher quality chapter than I had originally produced. Please keep reviewing as you read: your comments honestly do help me out a lot and, though you may not believe it, they **do** effect the future chapters I publish for the better. So I highly encourage your reviews, regardless of if you have a positive or constructive comment. Thanks!_

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><p>"I see."<p>

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and observed Snape across the desk for a moment in silence. The news of Bellatrix's decision had, for once, left the headmaster unsure of what to say. They had a plan in place and everything had been prepared to the best of their abilities to ensure Harry's success in the coming year. But now with the half-vampire's unusual alliance and the Unbreakable Vow Bellatrix had sworn to, everything had come crashing down around them.

Snape, becoming quickly irritated with Dumbledore's silence, cut through it like a knife. "That's all you have to say?"

"I don't know what you expected me to say, Severus. This isn't something we had any way of predicting."

A sneer spread across Snape's lips. "I would have thought after all these years you would have had a backup plan, Albus."

"I did," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Unfortunately this news throws off both of the plans."

Snape's shoulders fell. He had been afraid Dumbledore would say that. After spending days, months, even years carefully crafting Voldemort's demise, the two wizards were now left stunned at the turn of events. It had been relatively easy to theorize about the Dark Lord's next steps because he had been predictable. As much as Voldemort would have disagreed, he really hadn't changed much since the first day Dumbledore had met him. Bellatrix Lestrange, on the other hand, had driven herself so deep into the realm of insanity that they never could have foreseen the trouble she had now caused.

Leaning forward, Snape balanced his arms on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to illuminate his pounding headache. "Surely it is too late to make a change of plans now? This late in the game we would be lucky to throw together even a poorly conceived idea."

"I wouldn't be so keen to admit defeat yet, Severus." Dumbledore paused, expecting Snape to argue but found himself surprised when the dark man merely glanced up and stared at him in silence. Having known Snape since he had come to Hogwarts as a student of Slytherin house, Dumbledore had become well acquainted with his forcefully composed expressions and he knew that behind the mask, Snape felt rather uneasy with the turn of events. "We may still be able to recollect ourselves in time. How is your progress with Miss Granger?"

Sighing, Snape pushed away from the desk and leaned against the back of his chair. "Slow. She has made improvements in her stability, but she still has a long way to go."

"And what of her memories?"

Snape shook his head. "It's still too great of a risk to try to extract them in full. Although ..." His pause caused Dumbledore to sit a little straighter and study his former pupil more deeply. "She has been having recurring nightmares since she left the infirmary and I believe they are latent memories of the attack."

A frown creased the headmaster's brow. "Has she told you about them?" Snape shook his head again. It became evident to the headmaster how Snape had come to know of Hermione's nightmares as he eyed the man's features. The bags under the dark wizard's eyes told the unspoken story of many nights of interrupted sleep and Dumbledore found himself unsure who he felt more concerned for; Snape or Hermione. With a gentle nod of understanding, Dumbledore pressed on. "If we are to put a new plan in place, we first need to get as much information from her as possible, Severus. And now, more than ever, time is of the essence."

"I'm well aware of that, Albus," Snape hissed, crossing his arms. "But it may still be too great of a risk to attempt to get her to open up about her nightmares, let alone attempt to retrieve all she has forgotten."

Would the risk of breaking Hermione's remaining humanity be worth it? As the brightest witch of her age, Dumbledore hoped they could build her back up enough so she could help with the war efforts. There was no denying that her intelligence, coupled with her vampiric enhancements would prove incredibly valuable. But when left with the choice between Hermione's sanity or Voldemort's destruction, the headmaster had to sadly admit which he could live without. The natural twinkle that resided in Dumbledore's eyes faded, his expression turning more grave than Snape had witnessed in years. "I'm afraid we have no choice but to try."

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><p>It had already been two weeks and she still couldn't believe her luck. Hermione had thought for sure she would receive some sort of punishment from Snape after her insult, but instead they had fallen back into their well known silent routine. The only time they had spoken to each other over the last two weeks had been during his class, and even then it hadn't been so much a conversation as it had been him barking orders at her. Last Monday the class had started working on their nonverbal spells, but it had been a painfully slow start which clearly hadn't done well on Snape's nerves.<p>

It hadn't just been their silence that had become common place. In the three weeks since she come out of the coma, she had yet to wake gently from a peaceful slumber. Instead, today, like all the others, she lay on her back watching the enchanted ceiling while waiting for the painful nightmare to slip away from her conscious mind. The nightmare had become so normal now that she no longer found herself disturbed by it's presence, though she still couldn't avoid the trembling that took over her body as a result.

After slipping into the bathroom to prepare for the day, Hermione contemplated how her afternoon appointment would go. She had met with another member of the Department of Humanitarian Corruption last Monday. The woman had been nice enough, flying through the necessary questions in a professional manner before returning to the Ministry to file the report. But today she would finally see Comonar again, as his presence would be necessary to observe her feeding. Or so he had said in the letter she had received just the previous day. His letter had also requested a private meeting. Though the man unsettled her a little, she felt excited at the opportunity to speak with him while they would be alone. As one of the mysterious pieces of the Snape and Morgan puzzle, she hoped she would be able to get some answers from him.

Once she had finished with her hair, magically straightening it before throwing it up in a pony tail, she quickly applied the usual concealment charm on her fangs before stepping back into the bedroom. She wasn't surprised to find Snape, in full wardrobe, standing near the door leading to the sitting room. Though they had remained silent when in each others presence, he had taken to staring her down during their short time together in the morning before breakfast. Shrugging it off like she had for the last several days, Hermione crossed to her bed and set her pajamas under the pillows. She caught movement by the corner of her eye but by the time she glanced up, he had already stationed himself firmly in front of the exit. Straightening up, she narrowed her eyes at him. What was he playing at?

Continuing to match his hostile gaze, she crossed her arms and happily welcomed the familiar Snape-induced anger. She still couldn't account for _why_ his presence caused her to get so upset, but much like her nightmares, she found herself less concerned with it as the days went on. "What?"

By the end of the meeting with Dumbledore last week, Snape had agreed that the information Hermione had on the attack could very well be what they would need in order to finalize a new plan against Voldemort. He needed to get answers from her and since she had proved so unwilling to do so up to this point, he would have to force her. He had spent the week considering his options, but in the end, he had to admit that he really didn't have any options left. Too much time had already been wasted playing the waiting game. And the longer they waited, the more Voldemort would have the upper hand. As much as he didn't want to risk it, he would have to push her passed the breaking point and deal with whatever the outcome of her rage would be. He only hoped that he wouldn't do more damage to her still fragile mind in the process.

The time Hermione had spent in the bathroom had given Snape the chance to prepare a strategy. "I think you know what I want, Granger," he replied, he voice barely above a whisper. He had learned from Morgan that he had to handle the situation with just enough aggression to tip her over the edge, but not so much as to force her into a blood bath. It was a delicate game that had nearly gotten him killed several times sixteen years ago.

"You spent the last two weeks ignoring me," she hissed. "Why stop now?"

"Need I remind you again that you aren't the only one who sleeps in this room?"

A low growl escaped her regardless of her efforts to try to remain calm. "Then sleep on the couch," she snapped. She could care less how little sleep he had been able to get. She refused to tell him what little she could remember of the nightmares and no amount of waiting or arguing would change her decision. If Neville ever asked, she would willingly spill her darkest secrets to him because she trusted him. But from the moment she had laid eyes on Snape in the infirmary, her defenses had gone up. And regardless, she didn't see the point in opening up to someone who refused to open up to her in return.

Snape let out an exasperated sigh. Steeling himself for the coming storm, he ignored her snippy comment. "What are the dreams about?" As he spoke, he slowly shifted so the right side of his body would be hidden from her view. Thankfully Hermione didn't seem to take notice of his movement.

"What makes you think I'll tell you _now_?"

He held her gaze and bared witness to her eyes growing darker. As he had explained to Dumbledore, she had definitely improved her stability in the past several weeks through the scheduled feedings, but she still had a long way to go. With any luck it wouldn't take long for him to break the barrier between human and vampire. He didn't like it, but it was now or never. If he waited any longer, she would become too stabilized and he would never be able to get her to cross the line.

A small smirk crossed his lips, effectively enraging her further. "If you intend on leaving this room, you don't have a choice." Cautiously, he grasped his wand, which resided in his right pocket, keeping his movement slow and casual as to avoid her suspicions. Thankfully his false humor at her expense distracted her enough for him to extract his wand without notice.

"Is that so?" she shot back, another growl slipping out with her words.

Tightening the grip he had on his wand, he drew in a breath as he prepared himself for the next step of his plan. Swiftly drawing his right hand forward, he cast a nonverbal _Accio_, summoning Hermione's wand. The shock on her face as her wand flew out of her pocket would have been rather satisfying had he not been in such a dangerous situation. Catching her wand in his left hand, he shot another smirk her way.

But the shock didn't last for long. Pinning him with the most vicious glare he had ever received from her, her eyes went pitch black and the familiar unsettling aura started to seep into the room. The speed in which her anger spiked surprised him. He already knew that enraging her would be far easier than it ever had been with Morgan, but he had anticipated several more steps to be necessary to bring her this point. Had he misjudged her current state of stability or had he missed something else entirely about her condition?

"Give me my wand." There was something not entirely human about her tone.

His stomach clenched with nerves, but he did his best to keep his indifferent mask in place. It was too late to turn back now. "No." Acting against his better judgement, Snape stride forward and reached out to grab her arm. Physical touch had worked to help control Morgan before she flirted with insanity, so he hoped it would have the same effect on Hermione. But he didn't even get the chance to touch the sleeve of her robes before she had stumbled back, growling.

"Don't touch me."

Unable to disguise his confusion, he reached forward again, this time successfully clamping his hands down on her arms. He had barely had enough time to register the shock on her face before he had the wind knocked out of him as his back collided with the wall. He stumbled to his knees, dazed. Had she just thrown him across the room? It hadn't been the first time he had been tossed around like a rag doll, but something about her reaction didn't make any sense.

He lifted his chin just in time to see her swiftly stride toward him. Bending down, she grabbed him around the throat before slamming his against the wall, pinning him in place. When had she gotten so strong? With no other option, he stared into her eyes and startled as the whites of her eyes turn black as well. If he didn't find some way to distract her, there would be no leaving the room alive. Thankfully her grip on his throat wasn't tight enough to choke him, yet, allowing his mind to scramble for a solution.

For some reason, laying his hands on her had thrown her into a much deeper vampiric rage than he had anticipated. Instead of finding some level of comfort from their contact, she had recoiled and treated him like an enemy. She had allowed him to touch her before, so why not now? His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all before it would be too late.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

Snape froze. He hadn't expected her to say anything but it wasn't _what_ she had said that stunned him. It had been _how_ she said it. She had gone so deep into her rage that she should have sounded feral. But instead, her tone had been much more human than anticipated and there had been a feeling of deep pain lined in her voice. As he internalized what he had heard, the pieces slowly came together in his head.

The two times he had touched her previously she had been frightened of who she had become. She had been quite open about her fear during her first feeding and her reaction to the blood in the Great Hall had expressed her fears again rather clearly. But this time she wasn't afraid of herself at all. This time she had become afraid of something else, something that he couldn't see. _The nightmares_. They _had _been about the attack. But not just _about_ the attack; she had been reliving the entire experience from start to finish each and every night. But as traumatizing that he imagined that to be, there had to be more to it than that. She had become damn near petrified when he had grabbed her arms.

Then the realization came down on him like a rock slide. The half-vampires who had attacked her hadn't just used her as snack. They had _touched_ her. Snape felt like his blood had been replaced with ice. When he had confiscated her wand, he had become a threat to her. And the last "threat" she could even vaguely remember had been those twisted monsters in the forest. Her reaction to his touch suddenly made sense and unraveling the puzzle made him sick to his stomach.

He tried to shift but it only enticed her to tighten her grip. Now gasping for air, Snape said the only thing that came to mind. "I'm not ... the one ... who hurt you."

Hermione went rigid and her grip loosened slightly. She seemed confused, like he had only now realized who she had pinned to the wall. But there was also another emotion written across her face; anguish. "You were there," she manged to rasp between deep breaths.

Seizing the opportunity to get through to her, he pressed on. "I was there ... to _help_ you." Her grip started to falter a little more, though her eyes remained as black as night. Finally able to take a proper breath again, he relaxed against her hold. He wasn't out of the clear yet, but it wouldn't take much longer. "Don't be like the ones that hurt you. I can help you if you let me go."

A painful silence stretched between them. Hermione remained as still as a statue as she battled with herself internally. After what felt like an eternity, the stifling aura began to thin and the whites of her eyes started to return. Despite that fact that she still had him pinned to the wall, he let out a sigh of relief. She jolted as his breath tickled her face and finally released him, stumbling back.

Even though he had been the one about to die a moment ago, the shock on her face made him feel guilty. Glancing away to give her a moment to collect herself, he brought a hand up to his neck and gently rubbed at the spot that her fingers had dug into his skin. By the time his gaze returned to her, her eyes had started to revert back to purple and her shock had been replaced with an expression deep sadness and pain. When she realized he was looking at her, she jolted and stepped back until her legs hit the bed. Straightening up, he moved to step toward her, his hand slightly outstretched with the intent of helping her calm down.

"Don't!" she squeaked, wrapping her arms around her torso.

Frowning, Snape let his arm fall back to his side and kept his distance. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," she whispered. "I just ..." Her eyes darted around the room until she located their wands laying on the floor near by. Springing into action, she scooped up her wand and ran to the door to the sitting room, throwing it open. The last thing he heard from her as she slipped out of the room was "I can't!"

When her footsteps finally faded as she dashed out through the portrait, Snape let out a deep breath and lowered himself to the floor with his back pressed up against the wall. The half-vampires hadn't just torn her flesh and left her for dead, they had also stripped her of her innocence. And every night she had been forced to re-experience it. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the wall and tried to settle his own emotions. "Damn it, Albus."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's Note:_**_ Sorry that this chapter took so long. I have three children and we were all a little under the weather this week so my ability to focus on my writing was lacking. But fear not, I will never abandon my stories. On a good week, I'll post 2-3 times, but on a bad week I'll still post at least once._

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><p>Since the seating arrangements had been established during the first day of classes, Neville didn't worry about arriving early in order to safeguard his table with Hermione in the Defense classroom. Instead he waited outside of the Potion's classroom, glancing impatiently at his watch every few minutes as if somehow hoping that time would magically move faster.<p>

It had become Neville's normal morning routine to head down to the Gryffindor common room with Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean, where they would then be joined by Hermione. None of them had ever figured out what time she would slip in through the portrait of the Fat Lady, but without fail she would be found waiting by the fireplace for them each morning. Much to their relief, a few days after the first Potion's class, Hermione had given up on her frustrations with Harry and Ron. They weren't dim enough to think she had grown to accept their decision to keep the aged Potion's text, but they appreciated that she no longer felt the need to treat them like they had committed murder. Once they would meet up with her in the common room, they would all head down to the Great Hall to secure seats at the Gryffindor table for themselves, as well as one for Ginny, who would usually join them a few minutes later. It had become incredibly comforting to have the core of Dumbledore's Army together for breakfast.

Until today. The boys had stumbled down the spiral staircase, furiously rubbing at their eyes or trying to tame their hair only to find the common room empty. Thinking that maybe she had just gotten held up that morning, Neville led the group to the Great Hall believing that she would join them soon enough. Much to his surprise Hermione never showed up. After Ginny had slipped into her usual seat between Harry and Dean, Neville had all but forgot about his breakfast in favor of keeping an eye on the entrance for his best friend.

"Relax, Neville," Ron had whispered, nudging him gently to get his attention. "It's _Hermione_. She probably went to the library this morning or something and lost track of time."

But Neville hadn't felt very reassured. And a quick glance at the staff table hadn't done well for his over active imagination about the reasons for her absence either. His stomach had started to twist into knots when he noticed the lack of a certain dark-clad professor at breakfast as well. Had something gone wrong?

His anxiety had grown to such disastrous levels after breakfast that found himself planted outside of the Potion's classroom, pacing back and forth in front of the door. Glancing at his watch once more, Neville grit his teeth as he watched the second hand moved _slowly_ around the circular face. She had to be in the classroom, right? Skipping a meal had been one thing, but he doubted she would skip a class too. Or at least the old Hermione wouldn't have skipped a class. But Neville had to admit that he really didn't know what to expect from the current Amnesia plagued Hermione. Especially since he had no clue why she and Snape hadn't come to breakfast in the first place.

The audible sounds of students shuffling around to clean up the Potion's lab slipped through the wooden door. Jolting, Neville stopped his nervous movements and waited near the door, holding his breath in anticipation. Finally the door opened and the class filtered out into the corridor with Harry and Ron bringing up the rear. Being taller than most of the other students his age came in handy as Neville scanned the small sea of young men and women that past by, looking for Hermione's now familiar auburn hair. But she wasn't there. The food he had consumed for breakfast suddenly felt like rocks crashing against each other in his stomach. Where could Hermione have disappeared to?

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><p>Plastering his famous sneer across his face, Snape threw the doors to the Defense classroom open and swiftly strode to the front. Since the sixth year's class would be his first class of the day, he had stayed in his quarters during the first period. What little appetite he had when he had woken up had been destroyed after the incident with Hermione. The revelation he had come to about the attack had shaken him more than he cared to admit. She wasn't the first victim of such disgusting acts, but he had a hard time swallowing the fact that it had happened to one of the school's brightest students.<p>

Spinning on his heel, Snape whipped around to face the room of silent students. They stared up at him with the usual mix of fear, nervousness and uncertainty, and he suddenly felt grateful for the years he had spent perfecting his poker face. Narrowing his eyes, he gestured for the students to rise from their seats. "Group up with your partners. We'll begin with trying to move the desks."

"But we tried that last class," one of the students loudly protested.

Snape's head darted in their direction in a flash, pinning the Ravenclaw with a fierce glare. "And last I checked, Miss Brocklehurst, few of you were even remotely successful. If I am not mistaken, your desk barely moved an inch." Mandy Brocklehurst blushed with embarrassment at being called out publicly and lowered her eyes. Satisfied, Snape nodded his head toward the desks and returned to addressing the entire class. "Until most of you can accomplish such a simple task as this, we will not progress onto the more challenging spells."

Several students grumbled under their breath, but after the example Snape had made of Mandy, no one dared protest more loudly. The class shuffled around as they grouped up with the partners they had selected the previous week. Remaining at the front of the class, Snape silently observed as the students began their rather pitiful attempts to cast a nonverbal _Ventus Duo_. He had spent the entirety of the last class barking at them to correct their blunders, and while a few of the students had improved since then, he found himself disappointed with most of them. Had they gone deaf last week or were they really just _that_ incompetent?

Ernie Macmillan had his face scrunched up so tightly that it had clearly given himself a headache, which wasn't helping him concentrate. Pansy Parkinson wasn't using the correct wand movements to accompany the unspoken spell. And Michael Corner had seemingly forgotten all together that he still required his wand in order to practice, as only highly advanced nonverbal spell casters could accurately preform without a wand. Growing increasingly frustrated as his eyes scanned the class, Snape frowned when his gaze traveled to the back of the room.

Neville had risen from his seat as instructed, but his arms remained at his sides and he stood completely alone with a wide gap between himself and the rest of the class. Where was Hermione? Thinking he might have overlooked her presence, Snape scanned the room again only to find that she wasn't in the class. Glancing back over at Neville, Snape stepped from the front of the room and weaved around the other students as he strode over to the lone Gryffindor. Catching the dark mass moving toward him by the corner of his eye, Neville jolted and took half a step back, acting out of reflex.

"Where is Miss Granger?" Snape questioned as he came to a stop.

Neville swallowed nervously but attempted to stand his ground. Their private conversation from the week before term had started to lift some of his anxieties about Snape, but the man could still be rather intimidating regardless. "I don't know, sir." Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy's vague answer, causing Neville to hastily add, "I haven't seen her all morning."

Quirking an eye brow, Snape's gaze bore down on him. Didn't Hermione and Neville always have breakfast together? He had seen them with their little band of Gryffindors every morning since the start of term. Snape had assumed that after Hermione's abrupt exit that morning that she would have immediately gone to those who would bring her comfort. Crossing his arms, he leaded a little closer to Neville and slightly lowered his voice. "Wasn't she with you this morning?"

"No, sir. I thought she was with you."

Exchanging uneasy glances, the two felt silent. As Snape considered the events from earlier, he privately acknowledged that maybe it had been better for her to stay away from her friends after all. She hadn't left in a very stable emotional state and even the smallest of things could have easily set her off again. But where could Hermione have run off to? Pushing those thoughts aside for later, Snape cleared his throat and turned away from Neville, nodding his head toward the other students. "Very well. Join one of the other groups and get working, Mr. Longbottom."

"But, sir-"

"Your partner's absence doesn't give you the right to get out of class as well." Snape snapped, cutting off Neville's protest without even looking at him. Locking his arms behind his back, Snape started back toward the front of the classroom without another word.

At first Neville remained in his place as he watched the professor's retreating back. He knew that Snape knew something about what had happened to Hermione. Last year, being on the receiving end of the professor's icy tones would have been enough to deter Neville from pressing for information. But his experience at the Ministry a few months earlier had snapped something in him, something that had been holding him back for years. He couldn't identify it, but he knew something had changed and there was no going back. Mustering up his courage, Neville followed behind Snape, determined to get answers.

"What happened to her?"

Pausing mid stride, Snape peered over his shoulder and was surprised to see Neville trailing so closely behind him. Few staff members, let alone students, had ever risked traveling in such close proximity to him. Keeping is back to Neville, he continued to glare at him over his shoulder. "Mr. Longbottom-"

"No," Neville snapped, crossing his arms. "I know something happened this morning. What's going on?"

A growl escaped Snape as he spun around, turning on him so fast that Neville stumbled back a few paces. Stepping forward, Snape closed the distance between them. "This is not the time nor the place for this conversation!" he hissed in a low voice, almost daring Neville to speak out of line again. Snape's eyes darted around the room over Neville's shoulder before quickly flicking back to him. "Get to work, Mr. Longbottom, before I put you in detention." Turning away once more, Snape crossed to his desk and appeared to busy himself with the stack of papers in front of him.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Neville turned and glanced around the room. Thankfully most of the students had been too distracted with their miserable attempts at casting _Ventus Duo_ to have noticed the spat between them. And though he hated to admit it, Snape had been right; the classroom really wasn't the appropriate place to talk about Hermione.

He had just decided to join Seamus and Dean for the day's practice when his gaze met with a pair of cold, grey eyes. Neville's heart almost jumped out of his throat as he stared at Draco, who had been standing relatively close by. At some point during Neville and Snape's disagreement, Draco had left Pansy to her own devises and had turned to watch the scene unfold. The longer they held each others gaze, the more angry Draco seemed to get. Swallowing, Neville lowered his head and strode past Draco to join his friends across the room. Seamus welcomed him with a big grin while Dean stood silently, his wand pointed at the desk they had been practicing on. Risking a glace back over at Draco, Neville found him glaring at Hermione's empty desk. He stared at the blonde Slytherin, confused, when Draco's glare then moved to the front of the room and landed on Snape.

"Oi, Neville." Dean's hand suddenly clapped down on Neville's shoulder, making him jump and he pulled his gaze away from Draco. "You're turn."

For a moment Neville blinked stupidly until he brain caught up to him. _Right, spell practice. _Nodding his head lightly, Neville forced a smile on his face. "Yeah, sure." He stepped toward the desk and extracted his wand, but he couldn't seem to clear his mind. If Neville had had any doubts about how much of the argument Draco had overheard, he didn't now. Based on the look he had seen on the Slytherin's face, Draco had heard it all.

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><p>Ignoring the constant gurgling of her empty stomach, Hermione glanced at her watch and sighed. After escaping the bedroom, she had gone out onto the school grounds and took refuge behind the tree near the lake that she had sat under the day she had been released from the infirmary. It resided just far enough from he castle that she could remain hidden from anyone looking out the castle windows. And there she remained all morning, desperately trying to forget what had happened with Snape.<p>

The soothing, warm, end-of-summer breeze helped to easy her rigid muscles, but her brain continued to race through the events like a film on repeat. The more she analyzed the incident, the more her stomach twisted painfully in fear. She could have killed him. In fact, she almost did. She had felt the heated desire to tighten her grip around his throat and watch him become lifeless. But now, as she sat under the tree by the lake, she couldn't even identify why she had gotten so upset. After Snape had taken her wand, she hadn't been able to think rationally anymore. She couldn't really call it a blackout, because she had still been able to see everything clearly. But her mind had gone black and everything she had said or did had been based of pure instincts fueled by the suppressed memories of the attack. But just like when she woke each morning, she could no longer remember the memories that had had driven her to almost commit murder.

Unless her watch had been wrong, she had just missed lunch, which explained why she felt so hungry. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to return to the Great Hall. She knew she would have to face Snape again whenever she decided to return to their rooms, but she didn't feel ready to see him again yet.

She rested her head against the tree and enjoyed the breeze tickling her skin, waiting for the time to pass. She had no intentions of attending her classes today, but she did still desire to meet with Comonar later that afternoon. As his job description implied that he had worked with other converts before her, she hoped to be able to find out more about her condition. Snape seemed to only be willing to tell her the bare minimum, though she didn't know if it was because he didn't want to scare her or if he himself didn't know much beyond what he had already told her. Regardless, she had decided to try to extract as much information from the inspector as possible.

When the time finally arrived for her to meet with Comonar, she left her safe haven and traveled back to the castle's main entrance. When she stepped through the large front doors, she spotted the inspector waiting near the Great Hall, his head dipped low and a book in his hands. As she approached, he glanced up and smiled, closing the book with a light _snap_.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

"Inspector," she replied, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry to have to pull you away from your classes this afternoon. I would have set our appointment for later, but my schedule is rather full this evening."

"It's okay, sir. I've been a bit ..." she paused to think about how to finish her sentence, "distracted today anyway."

"Oh?" Raising an eyebrow, Comonar studied her curiously. "Something I should know about, Miss Granger?" Hermione swallowed and did her best to force a gentle smile across her lips before shaking her head. He continued to study her silently for a moment before nodding and gesturing toward the front doors. "Very well then. Shall we go for a walk? The entrance hall is far from the ideal place for this discussion."

They traveled in companionable silence for a while. Something seemed different about Comonar compared to the first time they had met. He seemed more at easy and thoughtful. It wasn't until they found themselves wandering around the edge of the Black Lake that Comonar finally spoke up. "I have been in this field for forty-two years, Miss Granger. I have met others like yourself in that time, so I know a thing or two about how challenging it can be to adjust." He turned his head to look at her directly before continuing. "Though I must say it is rare to meet a convert who has adjusted as quickly as yourself."

"Is that bad?"

"Oh goodness, no. Far from it," he laughed. "But your ability to adapt has added to my theory that those of you who lose their memories have an easier time regaining their life than the rest."

Frowning, Hermione matched his gaze. "So I'm not the only one with Amnesia?"

Shaking his head, he looked out over the smooth water of the lake. "It's not exactly common, as most converts are created under much less violent circumstances than you experienced. But no, you are not the only one."

Hermione stopped walking and stared at him. He made it sound like converts weren't quite as rare as she had been lead to believe. Halting his own movements, he glance back at her and calmly waited for her to form the question he knew she would ask. "Do you only deal with half-vampires, Inspector?"

"No." Smiling in his usual gentle manner, he gestured for them to continue their walk. "But I'm afraid I can't speak much about my other responsibilities. My job involves a lot of highly confidential information. I'm sure you understand."

Hermione nodded, stepping forward to continue their slow pace around the lake. Though she understood the importance of keeping his job a secret, she also felt a little let down. It would be highly unlikely that she would be able to get much information out of him about Morgan. But that wouldn't stop her from trying. They walked in silence for a few more minutes. "Are people like me rare?"

"Depends on how you define 'like you', Miss Granger." He brought a hand up to his chin and scratched at grey whiskers that littered his face. "Half-vampires are known for their irresponsibility with their victims. I suppose to comes with the territory of what happens when nature is tampered with. As I'm sure you are smart enough to guess, a vampire and human union is not only dangerous but also illegal. The children born to those human women have damaged genes which leads to a lack of a certain amount of care or discretion, causing plenty of conversions." Seeing the frown on Hermione's face, he chuckled lightly. "Though converts are more common than you would think, those like yourself who seem to show signs of being able to humanize themselves are rather rare. Truth is most of your kind are unable to, or refuse to do as they should to settle themselves and need to be ... handled appropriately."

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine. She wished he didn't feel the need to soften his explanation. Replacing words like "kill" or "destroy" with "handle" or "remove" made her feel far more uncomfortable. But the part she found to be more unnerving was how he credited her with the ability to humanize herself. After what happened earlier that morning, she felt more like a monster than ever. Feeling his eyes on her, she suddenly felt self-conscious. She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say to distract him. She didn't want to give him any hint to a disturbance in her stability. "What happens to those of us who _can_ prove ourselves?"

"It takes a long time, I'm afraid." This time he had been the one to stop walking. "As I mentioned during my last visit, you'll be meeting with my Department on a weekly basis for a while. But over time our checkups will become less frequent. If you work hard on keeping yourself stable, eventually you will only see myself or one of my colleagues every few months. And even once you have been official declared non-threatening, you will still be required to have an inspection on an annual basis, just to ensure you haven't gotten too comfortable and let yourself slide."

"But we _can_ live normal lives?"

Comonar's smile remained but something appeared in his eyes that hadn't been there until now; pity. "As normal as is possible for someone like yourself, yes." A slight frown appeared and he gazed at her almost like a concerned grandfather. "But it takes a lot of hard work, Miss Granger. And even then, sometimes _wanting_ to live normally isn't always enough."

"Did Morgan want that too?" Hermione hadn't intended to be so blatant, but the words had slipped out before she could stop herself.

The inspector blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. Shaking his head lightly, he gave her a look that would usually be reserved for when a parent catches a sneaky child in the act. "You know I can't talk about my other cases, Miss Granger. Especially those that are still open."

_Still open_. The words rang through her head as she stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Morgan's case was still open? But how was that possible? "She's still alive?"

His smile returned and he tipped his head lightly in a barely recognizable nod. "But you didn't hear it from me," he whispered. He quickly adjusted his tie before continuing their walk. "I should have known Professor Snape would have told you about Morgan."

Hermione gently bit her bottom lip and glanced guiltily at Comonar. "No exactly. He refuses to tell me much about her. All I know is she is also a convert and that he hasn't seen her for a long time."

"Hm, yes. It's been sixteen years already. Hard to believe had fast time flies." His response seemed to be more to himself than to her. He gazed out at the lake again, his eyes seeming far away like he had fallen into memory.

She studied the elderly man, her own mind drifting as well. "Inspector, can I ask you something?"

As if suddenly remembering that she was still there, he jolted and turned to look at her once more. "You can ask, though I may not answer."

Nodding, Hermione pressed on. "You don't like Snape much, do you?"

He seemed momentarily surprised by her question before laughing a little. "Why do you ask that?"

"When you were last here, it sounded like you were blaming Snape for what happened to Morgan."

"Ah," nodding his head, he causally roped his arms behind his back. "What you need to understand, Miss Granger, is that Professor Snape and I have a complicated history. I worked with him and Morgan for several months. The Professor was quite young then, likely only two or three years older than yourself and he didn't have any support back then. And unfortunately, due to the nature of his situation back then, I wasn't able to meet with them as often as is legally mandated." Hermione knew that to be Comonar's subtle hint at the Professor's Death Eater past and it made her wonder how much he knew about Snape. "I do not blame Professor Snape for what happened, regardless of what you heard. I don't think there was anything either of us could have done to help her. I believe she_ wanted_ to flirt with insanity. She brought it upon herself."

Stopping again, Comonar threw out his arm to halt Hermione's steps as well. His smile had disappeared again, his expression suddenly very serious. "I am still here today thanks to Professor Snape. He saved my life, Miss Granger, and I will forever be in his debt because of it. He is a better man than you realize, but he is still capable of making mistakes just like the rest of us. I highly recommend that you do what you can to heed his advice but remember that in the end, only _you_ have the ability to determine which path you will take.

"What you heard when I was last here had little to do with Professor Snape himself. I have a job to do, regardless of my how I feel. It would be wrong to go around the law based on personal bias." He reached out and placed his hand lightly on Hermione's shoulder. "The same applies to you. I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore about you and I know you are a very intelligent woman. And I know that, should you manage to remain stable, you will mean a great deal to the Wizarding world. However ..." a small sigh escaped him, "I will not hesitate to order your removal should things go badly. I cannot put others at risk just because I see tremendous value in you. I am sure you understand."

Hermione nodded, a shuddering breath slipping between her lips. What had happened between her and Snape that morning had been all the proof she needed to finally realize just how dangerous she could be when left uncontrolled. But part of their conversation from earlier had given her hope. If she could keep her resolve strong, eventually she could put the monster behind her and live a mostly normal life.

"Have you skipped a meal today, Miss Granger?"

Startled out of her thoughts, she lowered her head in shame at getting caught. "Yes," she mumbled.

"I thought as much. I can see it in your eyes.

Sighing, her shoulders fell. "Of course you can." _Stupid eyes_, she thought to herself. Maybe she would have reconsider putting a concealment charm on them after all. "I know the importance of eating normal meals, sir. I just ..."

"Got distracted?" he finished, an all too knowing smile playing at his lips. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he extracted a small bag of tea biscuits. Opening the bag, he grabbed two of them and handed them to her. "Here, these should suffice until dinner. But make sure you _do_ eat tonight, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Gratefully accepting the biscuits, she gave him a small smile.

"Good. I'll level with you, Miss Granger. I would really like to see your file end up in my annual checkup cabinet. So please do what you can to keep yourself in good shape." After putting the rest of the biscuits back in his pocket, he clapped his hands together. "Now, eat up while we go through the usual procedure." He grabbed his wand and summoned the same clipboard and quill she had seen him with two weeks ago. "Just like when Inspector Flitbear had seen you last week, we'll go through the same series of questions. If anything has changed since last week, please let me know. By the time we are finished, it should be dinner time. I'll leave you to your meal, but after you'll need to meet me in the dungeons at seven sharp so I can observe your feeding."

Hermione bit into one of the tea biscuits and nodded her agreement. She still had a lot of questions, but the inspector had already made it quite obvious that she wouldn't get much more information out of him. Satisfied, Comonar positioned his quill over the parchment on the clipboard and began listing off the various questions. After which he escorted Hermione back to the castle and bid her a temporary farewell so she could have dinner.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe.  
><em>

**_Author's Note:_**_ I had intended on getting this chapter published much sooner than this, but I really, really struggled with this chapter. For some reason it just wasn't translating the way I wanted it to. So after a lot of refining, I have finally gotten it to a point in which I am happy with it. I hope it still lives up to the quality I have produced thus far. I will try to get at least one additional chapter posted this week to make up for it. Also, I have made it a personal goal to respond to **every** review, so you'll find a response to your comments generally within 24-48 hours of your review :)_

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><p>Neville's jaw dropped open, the juice he had just sipped dripping out of his mouth as he watched Hermione walk into the Great Hall for dinner. She didn't know whether to feel self-conscious about his staring or laugh. In the end she opted for attempting to appear nonchalant in order to avoid drawing too much attention to her reappearance. She tried to she keep her stance straight as she swept up to the Gryffindor table, taking her usual seat on Neville's right. "Evening," she greeted softly as she reached forward and selected a few of the many delicious foods, ignoring the shocked expression still plastered on Neville's face.<p>

As if finally realizing he had been staring, Neville's mouth snapped shut and he wiped at his face with a serviette. His mind raced trying to justify why she had gone missing all day only to return, acting as if she had never left. He didn't want to break the standard he had set for their friendship by asking questions but he couldn't think of a valid reason for her disappearing act. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance to say anything Ron appeared at the table. He dropped his bag off his shoulder with little care for where it landed and then heavily threw himself onto the bench across from them.

"I thought today would never end," he groaned, folding forward and pressing his forehead flat against the table.

"Oh come on, Ron," Seamus laughed as he plopped down next to the distressed red-head. "It could have been worse."

"Yeah," Dean piped in as he sat down on Neville's left, "least you didn't set a desk on fire."

Neville snorted behind his goblet, trying to hide his smile as from Seamus as his head shot in his direction. Dean attempted to stifle his own laughter with limited success. Even Ron grinned as he sat back up and grabbed his plate.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Seamus sighed but he didn't seem all that upset by his friends' reactions. Hermione sat in silence, a little thrown off by the conversation. None of them seemed the least bit bothered by the pyrotechnical event, leading her to believe that this hadn't been Seamus's first time setting something ablaze accidentally. Smiling a little now himself, Seamus shrugged. "Least it was only a small fire this time."

Harry joined them, reaching the table in time to catch the end of the conversation. He hopped over the bench, taking his usual seat beside Dean with a slight frown. "You're lucky that Snape only gave you a week's worth of detentions. It could have been a lot worse, you know."

All the boys nodded their heads in agreement, a few of them even adding a small "yeah" in for good measure. Hermione continued to stare at them in a complete loss for words. She had been placed under Ministry laws forcing her to hide what she had become and yet Seamus could walk around practically burning the school down? She understood that a few small fires were nothing compared to the chaos and destruction she could be capable of, but the irony of the situation didn't escape her. She supposed that magical malfunction would be considered the lesser of the two 'evils' in the end.

The boys had used the previous conversation as a catalyst to discussing the progress they had finally made in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione attempted to listen to their playful bickering over who had managed to move their desk the furthest, but she couldn't help but let her eyes drift over to the staff table at the head of the Hall. The voices around her become a mere hum in the back of her mind as her gaze traveled to the empty seat next to Dumbledore. She frowned at Snape's absence, wondering if she had harmed him more than he had let on.

"Hermione?"

Blinking, Hermione pulled herself out of her morbid thoughts and turned back to the boys. They were all staring at her expectantly. "Pardon?"

"Where have you been all day?" Harry repeated as he reached for his goblet.

"Oh, um ..." Her mind started to race to think of a reasonable excuse. Normally she would turn to Neville for assistance as he seemed to be much better at deception than her, but he remained silent and watched her curiously for an answer. Thankfully Neville seemed to be the only one showing signs of concern while the rest of them merely seemed curious. She knew she would have to privately give Neville a better explanation for her disappearance later, but for now she just needed to get the rest of her friends off her back. "I wasn't feeling very well. I was in the infirmary."

There was a moments pause as the boys took in her response. She stiffened, suddenly worried that her simple explanation hadn't been sufficient until Ron shrugged and turned his attention back to his dinner. "I suppose it was for the best that you're still under watch by the staff then, huh?"

Hermione nodded, forcing a small smile. Just then Ginny finally joined them, slipping in between Harry and Dean. Having missed the discussion entirely, she immediately redirecting the conversation to the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. The boys excitedly joined in on the topic and started placing bets on who would make the team that year. No longer the center of attention, Hermione let out a small sigh. She had been quite lucky in the last three weeks. Neville had done a great job as her cover up assistant, but he wasn't always with her when she needed his help. Thankfully, any time he hadn't been around to help her get around uncomfortable questions, one of her other friends would accidentally have perfect timing and she would be saved from having to stumble her way through a hastily crafted lie.

Hermione let the Quidditch chatter carry on without her so she could finally start eating. She didn't mind the wizarding sport, but she much preferred a good book over riding a broom and she didn't want to put a damper on their spirits with her biased commentary. She had just gotten through a few bites of her Shepard's pie when Neville nudged her arm and leaned toward her.

"You okay?"

Pausing for a moment, Hermione glanced around the table to ensure their friends were all still sufficiently distracted. "Yes," she offered, though even to her own ears her response sounded forced. "Well, sort of," she admitted when Neville shot her a skeptical expression. "I'll be fine, really. I just ... got a little shaken up today."

Neville frowned. "What happened? Professor Snape wouldn't tell me anything, even after class." Hermione opened her mouth to say she didn't want to talk about it, but she couldn't get the words out. Snapping her jaw shut, she swallowed and turned away from Neville as an unsettling realization dawned on her. She did want to talk about it, just not with _Neville_. She sat silently, attempting to work through her now highly complicated thoughts while gazing blankly at her barely eaten meal. "Hermione?"

She blinked, snapping out of her musings and her gaze shot back up to meet his. "I'm sorry, Neville. I can't really talk about it right now."

"Can't, or won't?" Neville pressed, torn between being irritated or concerned.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Can't. I have a meeting right after dinner."

Neville studied her silently. He didn't want to risk her running away again by asking questions, plus he had already gotten his fill of pushing the limits for a day during Defense class. But he wasn't going to just let it go like it had never happened. Her disappearance had scared him and even though she seemed fine, he couldn't shake the uncomfortable thought that he may have come close to losing her today. "Fine. Just ..." he paused to reign in his emotions to make sure his voice wouldn't give away how worried he had been, "just promise me we'll talk tomorrow then, okay?"

"I promise."

"I'm serious, Hermione." He grabbed her shoulder with a little more force than he normally would in an attempt to get her to understand how much her promise would mean to him. "No more disappearing acts, okay?"

The strength of his grip surprised her. Glancing up from her dinner she met his gaze and saw pain in his eyes. A wave a guilt rushed through her as she realized how much her absence had hurt him. She had always turned to Neville in times of need but she had been so caught up in her own shock and self loathing to think about how he would feel when left in the dark. Swallowing her guilt, she gave him a small smile and nodded. "No more disappearing. _I promise_."

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><p>Hermione left the Great Hall as soon as she had finished her meal. Normally she would spend time with her friends in Gryffindor tower for a few hours each night, so she had to make an excuse about needing to get some extra rest before she could slip out of the Hall. Thankfully none of them argued since they all believed that she had spent the day recovering in the infirmary. She glanced at her watch and noticed that she would be a few minutes early, but she didn't really care. She wanted to get her scheduled feeding over with quickly so Comonar would return to the Ministry. After her chat with the inspector she no longer felt uncomfortable around him, but she needed him out of the way so she could speak with Snape privately.<p>

She met up with Inspector Comonar in the corridor near the snake portrait. He gave her is usual gentle smile, but it didn't hold any of the personal hints it had when they had walked around the lake together. His smile had returned to the complete professional form it had been the first time they had met. She wasn't surprised by the change since he had explained how seriously he took his job. But she did find herself fascinated with his ability to flip from one to the other so effortlessly.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Excellent." He turned toward the portrait, his clipboard and quill in hand. "Shall we, then?" She nodded in agreement and walked past the inspector to the portrait. She provided the password and stepping inside with Comonar following close behind her. Snape must have known they were corridor because he stood waiting for them in the middle of the sitting room, his arms locked behind his back, with his usual cold, closed off expression. Comonar smiled at Snape over Hermione's shoulder. "Good Evening, Professor."

"Inspector," Snape mumbled with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Comonar's smile didn't falter even the slightest as he held Snape's cold gaze. He had clearly become rather adjusted to receiving such looks from the Potion's Master. Placing his hand lightly on Hermione's back, the inspector gently lead her over to the couch. "I have another meeting to attend soon, so let's get this over with quickly."

Hermione obligingly sat on the couch and watched as Comonar stepped back a few paces so he would be able to get a good view. Snape silently stalked over to the couch, unclasping the buttons around his wrist as he moved. It wasn't until Snape sat down next to her that Hermione started to feel nervous. She didn't mind answering a few behavioral questions every week, but having her feedings observed made her feel like an animal caged in a science lab.

The memory of her hand around Snape's throat suddenly flashed through her mind causing her to shiver. Comonar had his head bent low as he made a few pre-observation notes but Snape caught the shudder of her body in his peripheral vision as he began pulling back his sleeves. He paused and glanced up, meeting her strained gaze. His expression remained cold and guarded, but his eyes had soften a little. He could tell the idea of touching him terrified her so he tipped his head down slightly as if trying to give her a nod of encouragement without drawing the inspector's attention. The slight sound of movement met their ears as Comonar finished his notes and lifted his head to focused on them. Swallowing, Hermione immediately broke her eye contact with Snape. She didn't want to give the inspector any reason to believe something had gone wrong earlier.

"Whenever you are ready, Miss Granger." Comonar said gently.

She could still feel Snape's eyes on her as he brought his exposed forearm closer. She took in a deep breath to try to steady her nerves. Then she took Snape's wrist in her hand and folded forward, piecing the skin with her fangs. She could feel Snape's body go rigid before the familiar warmth of his blood overwhelmed her. It felt like pure sunlight had being injected straight into her veins. She had learned through her feedings that she needed to pay attention to the warmth to avoid drinking more than she needed. It wouldn't do Snape much harm if she drank a little longer, as he would always take the Blood Replenishment potion right after. But she would usually get a migraine and intense stomach pains if she consumed more than her body required. She assumed the symptoms were signs of her human side fighting the vampiric to avoid giving it too much power over her body.

She did her best to focus through the haze on the degree of warmth flowing through her and when it reached its peak, she stopped and immediately released her grip on Snape's wrist. Keeping her head down, she carefully dabbed her lips with the sleeve of her robe before turning to the inspector. He seemed rather pleased as he scribbled on the parchment attached to his clipboard.

"I see you've gotten better with the length of your feeds. Excellent." Lowering his notes, he smiled. "Thank you for your time today, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure to have a chance to speak with you today." Comonar had stepped forward as he spoke to shake Hermione's hand

Snape had slightly shifted away from Hermione when she had released him, pressing the handkerchief to his wrist with his eyes closed. As the inspector shook hands with Hermione, Snape opened his eyes and glared suspiciously at the inspector over her shoulder. He had no idea that they had met privately earlier. And while he didn't have anything against Comonar personally, Snape worried about what he may have discussed with Hermione.

"You're welcome, Inspector," Hermione replied respectfully.

Dropping her hand, Comonar vanished the clipboard and quill with a swift flick of his wand. "I'll see you both on the 30th. I'll send you an letter next week with the particulars." He glanced over Hermione's shoulder and nodded lightly at Snape, ignoring the dark look on the professor's face. "Good night, Professor."

Snape continued to glare at the inspector's back as he crossed to the portrait and disappeared into the corridor. A tense silence filled the room once the portrait had closed, neither of them really sure what to say. After a minute Snape had found his balance again and could focus on his magic once more. Raising his wand he silently cast _Accio,_ summoning two vials into his other hand. The sound of the glass vials clinking together when he grabbed them caught Hermione's attention and she finally turned to face him.

She had never actually seen Snape drink the Blood Replenishing potion because she would usually leave immediately after her feeding. She didn't like the sense of dominance she felt over him while he would be in a vulnerable state. She worried that accepting her position of power would make it harder for her hold on to her humanity. But now that he seemed to have recovered, she couldn't help but curiously examined the vials he had collected. One held the red Blood Replenishing potion, but the other seemed to house the same pearl white potion she had seen on the brewing table on the other side of the room. She watched in silence as he uncorked the vials and drank both potions with ease. She wondered how he managed to avoid making a face as Blood Replenishing potion had been known to taste like liquid ash.

He set the empty vials down on the end table beside him, along with his wand before crossing his arms and studying her with an unreadable expression. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. While physically she felt as right as rain, her thoughts and emotions were still a little unsettled. "Sir, I'm-"

"Don't." He demanded in a cold tone. Her head shot up and she studied him with a perplexed expression. He shifted a little under her gaze. She still didn't know that it had been his fault that she had lost control in the first place. If anyone deserved an apology, it was her. But regardless, he wasn't about to come clean about it since doing so would put Dumbledore in the hot seat. And while Snape had to admit that it would be nice to force the headmaster to take accountability, he had agreed to the task knowing what the possible consequences were. "I'm fine, Granger. I don't want to hear an apology." Seeing the confusing mix of emotions in her eyes, he add, "Nor do I need your guilt or pity, so wipe that look off your face."

"I almost killed you."

"But you didn't."

Hermione stared at him in silence. She couldn't believe he could be so casual about what had happened. Hadn't he been the one to warn her the night she had come out of the coma that if she didn't learn to control the venom's influence that he would personally hand her over to the Ministry? And yet, he seemed to be attempting to down play the whole situation. Something about it didn't add up. "With all do respect, sir," she whispered, lowering her head. "I had put my hands on you with no intention of letting you leave the room alive. I can't let you dismiss it like that."

"You were upset."

"I was out of control!"

Sighing, Snape leaned back against the couch. He didn't understand why she seemed to be arguing a case against herself. Did she _want_ him to report her to the Ministry? The silence stretched on as he continued to observe her. Maybe she _did_ want him to turn her in. Something she had said to him the first night echoed in his mind: _"__Well maybe you should have just left me to die!" _He thought she had merely said that out of frustration and confusion, but now he wasn't so sure. "I'm not going to report you, Granger," he said softly.

He watched her expression morph into one of deep sadness and self-loathing. "Why not?"

He considered answering her question outright but stopped himself before he could run his mouth. _He_ knew what the half-vampires had done to her, but did she? Her resistance to speaking about her nightmare hinted that she may have already been aware of some of the details but he didn't want to risk talking about it directly in case he was wrong. He took a moment to gauge the best way to approach the subject, deciding that he would try to steer her towards speaking about the topic on her own.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward slightly and unfolded his arms, letting them sit lightly on his thighs. "You are experiencing symptoms of post-traumatic stress, which is something that is relatively out of your control, regardless of your altered state. It would be highly ... unfair and unjust to report you under such conditions." Hermione shifted slightly. She felt rather uncomfortable with his observation, mostly because she hadn't been able to diagnose the symptoms herself. She knew quite well through her years of study what a victim of PTSD could experience and yet she had missed all the signs. Feeling a little ashamed of her lack of insight, she lowered her eyes to the rug at their feet. "However," Snape continued, "if we are unable to find a way to treat the symptoms and you lose control again, I'll have no choice."

Hermione nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. "I understand."

After a moment of silence he decided to change course and force the conversation to the surface. It had become obvious that she wouldn't tell him anything unless he asked. "What are the dreams about?" Though he spoke in a light tone, she mentally recoiled a little from the question. Her fear would have gone completely unnoticed had it not been for the twitch of her fingers. Snape sighed and crossed his arms once more. "Stop that. Your resistance is what got us in this mess in the first place." He paused, realizing he had spoken more harshly than he had intended and if he wasn't careful she would completely block him out. "Granger, if I am to assist you, you need to be honest with me."

Hermione glanced up as Neville's voice flooded her mind. _"I can help you cover it up, just stop trying to lie to me."_ She had so willingly opened herself to Neville when he had requested her honesty without a second thought, even going so far as to demand the same from him in return. But it wasn't the same with Snape. She knew that they both needed her to be honest in order to keep her on track to becoming a free member of society again, but she didn't know how honest she could be with someone who wouldn't return the open communication. But what other choice did she have?

"It's always the same dream," she began, her voice low. "I recognize it immediately when it starts but when I wake up it all ... disappears."

"You don't remember anything about it?"

She shook her head. "I remember feelings and emotions related to it. But not what actually happened."

Lifting his right hand, he curled his index finger and rested it against his chin with his thumb supporting the bottom of his jaw. "What do you feel?"

"Pain." She shivered and turned away from him in an attempt to hide the grimace on her face. Whenever she tried to focus on what she could remember from her nightmare, she could feel a phantom version of the pain that made her stomach turn. "It makes me feel like I'm dying."

Her description had been simple, but highly disturbing. How was he supposed to help her retrieve her memories when doing so would only fill her time awake with the same torture she experienced each night? While Dumbledore had likely been correct about Hermione gathering important information before the half-vampires struck, he couldn't convince himself that what she had learned would be valuable enough to justify the consequences. He couldn't help but feel she would be better off remaining as she is so long as they could find a way to hold off the nightmare.

Snape silently slipped off the couch and crossed the room to a small storage cabinet next to the brewing table. Hermione glanced over the back of the couch and watched him search through the the bottles and vials inside. After a moment he closed the cabinet doors and returned to the couch with two small vials, one a gentle purple and the other bright turquoise. "Drink these before you go to sleep tonight. There is no guarantee that they will be successful, as the venom in your body can neutralize the effects of some potions. But they may help you sleep better."

Hermione stared at the vials resting in Snape's outstretched hand. She recognized the purple Dreamless Sleep Draught and the turquoise Calming Draught now that she could seem them up close. "Thank you," she whispered as she carefully accepted the vials.

He waved his hand dismissively as if trying to down play his good deed. "I would like to get a full nights sleep as well, Granger. It is difficult to keep your classmates from burning down my classroom when I have been awake half the night." A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I would recommend you get some sleep now," he continued, pinning her with an authoritative glare. "It would be unwise to continue this conversation until you've gotten some rest."

She left the couch and crossed to the bedroom door. There was still much left to discuss, but she did feel rather exhausted. She glanced over her shoulder to find Snape sitting at his desk, sorting through student papers. "Thank you, Snape," she whispered, not really sure if she wanted him to hear her. Grabbing the door handle, she opened the door and silently slipped inside. As she closed the door between them, she could have sworn her heard him say "Goodnight, Miss Granger."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's Note:_**_ I am posting this about two days or so later than I had planned, so I apologize! But I promise this chapter will be worth the extra day. Also, I want to point out that in this story, Voldemort **did not **make__ any Horcruxes. What he did instead is a major plot point that will be explained later in the story. But I wanted to make sure you were all aware of that before you started asking why Dumbledore isn't injured from the ring ... cause that never happened. Hope you all enjoy!  
><em>

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><p>Snape sat by the fireplace, a worn leather journal laying open across his lap. He absentmindedly flipped through the pages re-familiarizing himself with words he had personally recorded in his early twenties. Though he tired to remain optimistic, he suspected that the potions he had given to Hermione would fail to aid her. When he had first brewed the Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draught for Morgan to combat her own occasional night terrors, they had been rather shocked to find they hadn't helped in the least. Having initially believed he had somehow brewed the potions incorrectly, Snape had remade them, only to find them rendered useless once again. He and Morgan had endured months of perfectly good potions failing before they had finally been able to discover that the venom in her system had been the culprit. He never had the opportunity to work on modifying the concoctions due to the horrendous schedule they were bound to as Death Eaters. However, he had managed to keep a record of which potions failed, which ones worked, and which ones were at least partly successful. He had the feeling that potions would react much the same for Hermione since she had somehow become almost a vampiric twin to Morgan.<p>

Unfortunately, there were no guarantees that his assumptions were correct. Hermione's transition still hadn't finished and the sudden boost of strength she had received had been the first sign of differentiating from Morgan's conversion other than the effect the venom had had on her brain. Morgan had gained speed and incredible hearing. As he continued to flip through his notes he pondered whether the rest of Hermione's transition would turn out the same as Morgan's. They both suffered from traumatic nightmares, though Hermione's seemed to be far worse and much more frequent. And he suspected that the dreams were more related to trauma of the attacks themselves than the effect of the venom. But their similarities didn't sit well with him with the knowledge of how far things had gone with Morgan's transition.

Then there was the other issue of figuring out if Morgan's trip into insanity had been a personal choice or an unfortunate outcome of the venom. Though Hermione's humanity still needed some work to stabilize, her mental state _seemed_ to still be intact behind the obvious signs of general trauma. Sighing, he paused to look over the final page of the journal. The hastily scribbled list of indicators of Morgan's declining sanity disturbed him. By all rights he should have picked up on those early warning signs of her decent into madness much sooner than he had. Looking back over the list, he couldn't believe how blind he had been, even when he took his age and lack of knowledge at the time into consideration. Though he supposed that she had wanted it that way. She had been an incredibly intelligent woman, so it only made sense that she would have done everything she could to throw him off her 'trail' until she had managed to completely break herself. And by that point it had been too late. Morgan had welcomed insanity like an old friend and had even had the audacity to imply that he would be happier if he walked the same crooked path. She had been observant enough to pick up on his own depression and insecurities, and had offered to help him cross that invisible line between sanity and madness. Everything had gone terribly wrong that night after he turned down her.

Swallowing, Snape desperately pushed the memories to the darkest recesses of his mind. He had quite happily locked away those memories years ago and found himself rather disturbed with how frequently they had jumped into his head since rescuing Hermione. Looking over the list again, he tried to observe the information from a completely analytical perspective. He had recorded the signs of Morgan's shattering mind after she had fled, mostly for therapeutic reasons, though he now felt rather grateful he had done it at all. He would need to keep a rather close eye on Hermione now that her transition seemed to be picking up. Closing the journal, he silently prayed that Hermione's transition would change course. He didn't want to bare witness to what had happened to Morgan all over again.

Standing, he cast a disillusionment charm on the journal and returned it to the top drawer of his desk, setting it on top of the aged envelop. Dreading the possible outcome would do nothing for his nerves, so he directed his thoughts to a much more pressing matter. He had still been unable to fulfill the headmaster's wishes of finding out what Hermione had learned in the Forest. Though she had finally admitted to the nightmares, she had outright told him that she no longer remembered the details when awake. He assumed that meant she had not yet realized that the dreams were more than just connected to the attack, but where instead her reliving the experience all together, which left him once again in a challenging situation.

Snape glanced at the miniature clock on his desk, deciding to pay the headmaster a little late night visit. He could care less about whether or not he would be waking the elderly man. He knew for certain that Dumbledore had no knowledge of what Hermione had endured and he intended to change that. Snape held no illusions about the headmaster like so many others. He knew that Dumbledore would be willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone if it meant the demise of Voldemort in the end and Hermione was no exception. But Snape hoped that, regardless, the headmaster would let his heart win over strategy for once and refuse to continue pressing the matter of Hermione's memories any further, both for her sake and for his.

He strode quietly through the dim corridors, keeping an eye out for students who thought it wise to break curfew. Thankfully he didn't encounter anyone along the way. He wasn't entire certain of his mental state and he didn't know what he would have done if he had run into anyone. He had learned over time how to convince those around him to see him as calm and controlled, even when deep down he had been hiding a raging storm of emotions. Pausing at the stone gargoyle, he mutter the password under his breath and took the winding staircase two steps at a time. He halted outside the office door long enough for Dumbledore's wards to alert the headmaster to his presence before throwing the door open without so much as quick knock.

The headmaster stood at the side of the room, the cabinet holding his Pensieve and bottled memories open next to him. The mist in the Pensieve swirled viciously, evidence that he had arrived while Dumbledore had been observing a memory. Snape noticed a brief flicker of irritation in Dumbledore's eyes at the interruption before the mask of the calm, all-knowing man returned. "Good evening, Severus."

"Albus," Snape replied curtly as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure this late at night?"

"It's about Miss Granger."

"Ah." Dumbledore smiled and crossed to his desk, slipping into the high backed chair with ease. The fluidity of his movements at his age would have seemed out of place in the eyes of a Muggle. But age worked rather differently in the magical world, and Dumbledore still had a good many years ahead of him. "I take it that means you have made some progress with her memories, then?"

Snape had moved away from door toward the desk, but decided to remain standing. He suspected that the conversation wouldn't last long enough for him to truly enjoy the luxury of sitting. Keeping his posture straight, he locked his arms behind his back. "Of sorts, yes," Snape responded quietly, his voice silky and dark.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly and studied his colleague carefully. Snape rarely used that tone when speaking with the headmaster unless he disagreed with one of his decisions. "And?"

"I was correct about the nightmares," Snape revealed, his tone remaining quite cold. "They are indeed memories of the attack, but she said she doesn't remember any of the details once she is awake."

"Do you believe her?"

"Yes." Snape eyed Dumbledore carefully. He outright refused to tell him about the near death experience since that information would be of no benefit to the headmaster's plan. But he didn't need to reveal that information in order to get his point across. "After what she endured that night, it would be rather obvious if she did remember any of it."

"I see." Dumbledore sat back in his chair with a grave expression. "I had hoped that the dreams would aid us in helping her regain her memories. Sadly, that no longer seems to be an option."

Frowning, Snape tilted his head to the side slightly. "Even if she did remember the details of the nightmares, they wouldn't be much help in retrieving _all_ of her memories."

"Of course not. But I am only really interested in what happened in the Forest."

Snape stood up straight again, his tight mask of indifference still in place to disguise his frustration. He really shouldn't have been surprised to hear it. Whether or not Hermione would every remember what her favorite color used to be would serve no purpose in the grand plan. Yet he still found himself surprised at how little Dumbledore seemed to care about the rest of what used to make the girl who she was. _He'll sacrifice anything_, he reminded himself.

The headmaster leaned forward and balanced his elbows on the desk, linking his fingers together under his chin. "You can't put it off any longer, Severus. We can't afford to let any more of our options slip past us. We are limited enough now as it is."

Refusing to give any form of agreement, Snape stood perfectly still and kept his impassive expression in place. "And how, exactly, are you planning for me to help her retrieve her memories?"

"With _Legilimency_."

Snape's body went rigid as his brain came to a screeching halt. "What?"

"I thought it would have been obvious, Severus," Dumbledore replied nonchalantly. "Why else would I have asked you specifically to help with this matter?"

No longer able to keep his emotions under control, the indifferent mask fell away in favor of deep seating scowl. He had assumed the headmaster had come to him merely because he had already been put in charge of the girl's welfare. And while he had considered that Dumbledore would want him to use _Legilimency_, he had quickly dismissed that idea soon after even thinking about it. Invading Hermione's mind would definitely be an effective method of bringing the memories to the surface, but then they would both be forced to witness the events in all their gruesome glory. He couldn't think of a more disguising and despicable method of gaining information. He would rather jump naked into the black lake in the middle of winter than make either of them watch her body be so utterly defiled.

Swallowing, Severus took in a deep breath, steeling his convictions. "No."

Dumbledore blinked a few times as if he might have misheard him. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," Snape growled.

"Severus-"

"No, Albus." Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "I will not use _Legilimency_ on her."

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. "What would you do instead then, Severus? We don't have time to play around with memory potions or Arithmancy equations. There is no other way."

Scowling, Snape started to pace around the office in order to keep himself busy. If he didn't do _something_ he would likely punch Dumbledore. "How many times do I have to say it, Albus? You don't understand what you are asking of me."

"Severus-"

"She was raped!"

The silence that followed Snape's outburst rang in their ears as they stared each other down. Dumbledore's mouth hung open slightly as he digested the information. Snape had stopped pacing and stood in front of the desk, his whole body shaking with anger. He knew he had agreed to become the Order's human tool in the war when he had changed allegiances, but Hermione had never once agreed to such a thing herself. Regardless of the fact that she had lost half of her humanity, she would still be one of the smartest witches at their disposal as the war picked up and he refused to let her fall apart like Morgan had.

Snape silently watched the headmaster's mind race as he factored the revelation into his grand war strategy. Slowly Dumbledore seemed to recover. Finally, he cleared his throat and pinned Snape with the most guarded expression he had ever seen on the headmaster's face. "That changes nothing."

Stunned, Snape stepped back as if he had been shoved. "What?"

Dumbledore shook his head, a small amount of sadness creeping into his expression. "We need the information, Severus. I understand this is hard for you-"

"Don't!" Snape snapped, his anger returned with a vengeance. "Don't you _dare_ say you understand, Albus. You don't understand _anything_ about what that's like. I will not put her or myself through that."

The headmaster sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the look on Snape's face as he responded. "You don't have a choice. I'm sorry, Severus."

Swallowing bile, Snape shook his head in disbelief. Nothing save for Lily's death had managed to hurt him as much as this. Over the years, the headmaster had said many hurtful things to him. Though most of those times had been once he had become an adult, a few times had been while he had attended Hogwarts as a student. Until now, he had thought nothing that could come out of Dumbledore's mouth could possibly hurt more than the day he had practically told Snape that his life held little value compared to the Marauders. But this time the headmaster had truly outdone himself.

Drawing in a shuttering breath, Snape tried desperately to hold back the memories that wanted to crash down on him. He didn't care how important the information could possibly be in the fight against Voldemort. They would just have to find another way ... somehow. "Go to hell." Moving as swiftly as he feet would carry him, Snape swept across the room and dashed through the office door.

* * *

><p>A soft knock on the office door brought Dumbledore out of his thoughts. "You may come in, Minerva."<p>

McGonagall slipped in, closing the door behind her. The headmaster's summons had woken her and she had quickly thrown her green velvet robes on over her nightgown, barely remembering to put her slippers on before she made her way through the corridors. Thankfully, her area of residency in the castle wasn't very far from the headmaster's office. Trying to avoid rubbing her eyes as they prickled uncomfortably, she shuffled over to the chair in front of the desk and rather ungracefully plunked herself down on it.

"Albus, it's past midnight. This better be important."

A small smile inched across Dumbledore's lips. "Of course it is, Minerva. I wouldn't have woken you otherwise."

"No true," she muttered, attempting to sound serious but she couldn't keep a small smile from her face.

"That was years ago, my dear."

"Yes well, I wouldn't put it past you, Albus. Age has not lessened your ability to still be quite the prankster."

Dumbledore laughed and shook his head. "I learned from last time, Minerva. I won't be doing anything of the sort to you again. The rest of the staff though ..."

McGonagall grinned momentarily before clearing her throat and forcing a stern expression back onto her features. "What is so important then?"

The headmaster's smile fell away instantly and the twinkle in his eyes died just as quickly. He let out a thick sigh and dropped his eyes to his hands which were folded over the surface of the desk. "It's about Severus."

McGonagall's shoulders dropped. She knew what that look meant. "Oh, Albus. Please tell me you didn't do it again." When the headmaster merely nodded, her eyes grew wide and her lips pinched together rather tightly. "Albus," she hissed through clenched teeth. She had expressed many times over the years how much she disagreed with his treatment of Snape. "You can't keep hurting him like that. You keep that up and we very well may loose him."

"He won't be lost, I assure you," Dumbledore corrected softly. "I daresay his reason for switching sides is stronger than all of the Order's reasons for fighting put together."

"And that justifies it?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore shot back, though his tone lacked any true bite. The two sat in silence for a moment. Finally Dumbledore's gaze lifted to meet hers. "I have never _wanted_ to hurt him, Minerva. But sometimes there are no other options."

McGonagall sighed and turned her head as she pretended to start picking imaginary lint off of her robe. "If you feel that way, then why am I here when I could still be sleeping?"

Silence met her question. After a minute she finally gave up on the act and met the headmaster's gaze again. He looked much older than he normally did and the sight clawed at her heart. She had known Dumbledore professionally for forty years, but he had become her closest friend a little over twenty years ago. He had opened up to her about his life in ways that she felt sure no one else knew. And while she suspected most people would see an indifferent strategist, she knew him better than that. She knew how much it hurt him to have to put others in harms way for the sake of the 'greater good'. But she also knew that he had the ability to put her personal feelings aside in order to achieve what must be done. But it didn't mean she like or agreed with his decisions.

Dumbledore leaned forward and sighed, the weight of the impending conversation already crashing down on him. "Because it is high time you know what is going on."

"Albus," McGonagall shook her head lightly, her features relaxing into that of a concerned friend instead of a stern professor. "I trust you enough to be comfortable with not knowing everything. Even if I don't necessarily agree with your methods."

The headmaster nodded, but his expression remained grave. "I am aware of that. But you need to hear this. It's not just about Harry and Tom anymore."

Frowning, McGonagall crossed her arms. Though he hadn't directly said it, she suspected that meant that something had changed recently, something that they hadn't planned for initially. It had always been about Harry and Voldemort. The rest of them were merely pawns creating a path to lead Harry toward his destiny. Most of the Order knew little to nothing about the prophecy and yet they call knew on some fundamental level that it would come down to Harry and Voldemort in the end. "What do you mean?"

"As you know, Severus has always played a rather important role in all of this. However," Dumbledore paused to give himself a moment to find the right words. "I now have reason to believe that he will now play an even greater role than he had originally agreed to."

McGonagall stared at the headmaster in silence. What would suddenly cause the relevance of Snape's impact on the war to increase? Slowly the pieces came together in her head and her eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat. Surely she had to be wrong. But it made much more sense than she wanted it to. Opening her mouth once more, she finally managed to speak. "Hermione Granger?" Dumbledore nodded but remained silent. Struggling to come to terms with her insights, she shook her head slowly. "There is more to the attack than just some traveling monsters, isn't there?"

"Yes."

"And Severus?"

Dumbledore stood and crossed to the window that he often used to gaze out over the grounds while in thought. Nothing was for certain yet, but he could see quite clearly where things seemed to be going. And he did not like it. "I suspect that Severus is going to be hurt many more times before this is all over with."

McGonagall, now no longer remotely tired, joined Dumbledore by the window and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her and noticed her eyes appeared glassy with restrained tears. He gave her a smile, though it lacked in any comfort or humor, and gently took her hand into his own. Swallowing, McGonagall held his gaze as if her life depended on it. "Tell me, Albus."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Sorry, I know ... more unanswered questions. But eventually all will be revealed._


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own the settings, themes, characters, etc from or related to the Harry Potter universe._

**_Author's Note:_**_ Longest chapter I have written so far, and it is 100% Hermione and Severus. I hope you enjoy it! This has been my favorite chapter to write so far. And thank you for your reviews. I really love reading your comments!_

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><p>Hermione woke with a start and shot up straight in her bed. Breathing deeply, she shivered from the cold sweat covering every inch of her body. Clearly the potions had failed to do their job. Using the corner of the comforter, Hermione wiped the sweat from her forehead before swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Pausing for a moment, she turned her head to glance at Snape's bed only to find it empty. Frowning, she looked around the room half expecting to find him lurking around in the corners. While she should have felt comforted by his absence, she couldn't shake the feeling that another awkward 'surprise' would be waiting for her in the sitting room. After all, the last time Snape had been out of bed before her had been the day she first met Inspector Comonar.<p>

Sighing, she stepped over to the dresser to retrieve some fresh undergarments then grabbed her uniform and robes from the wardrobe before locking herself in the bathroom. She quickly stripped off the soaked nightgown she had worn to bed and filled the bathtub with warm water and bubbles. Slipping into the water, she let out a sigh of relief as her muscles reacted to the temperature and immediately began to relax. It had become part of her normal morning routine to take a warm bath after having gone a day without one a week ago. Her body had been so painfully stiff for most of the day that even Harry and Ron had noticed.

She remained in the bath until the water began to cool before finally dragging herself out of the bathtub and running a fresh towel over her body. She slipped into her blouse and skirt, and had been in the middle of putting her Gryffindor tie on when she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her skin seemed to have a little more color than it had a few weeks ago, though she assumed that her iron clad feeding schedule had something to do with it. Her eyes had also changed a little, now favoring a much brighter purple than the deep shade they had originally been. She finished with her tie then grabbed her wand from the counter, casting the usual concealment charm on her fangs before applying the charm to her eyes as well. With how bright they had become she suspected that the students would easily be able to notice their unusual color even from a distance now and she wanted to avoid drawing so much attention. Satisfied with her now dark brown eyes, she put her wand back down on the counter and pulled her Gryffindor jumper on over her head before fixing up her hair, deciding to leave it hanging down her back in gentle waves. Unable to find a way to delay her entrance into the sitting room any longer, she grabbed her black robes and wand before leaving the bathroom.

Hermione crossed to the door separating the bedroom from the sitting room and paused to listen through the wood. There weren't any voices but she could faintly hear the sounds of bubbling cauldrons. Slowly and quietly, she opened the door and peered into the seemingly empty sitting room. She had been about to enter the room when she noticed Snape off to the side, standing quietly over the brewing table. She opened the door enough for her to stand in the door frame but remained there in silence, watching him work. His movements were smooth and calculated as he measured, chopped, and ground up ingredients, adding them to the cauldrons in front of him in exact amounts completely from memory. Since he had been given the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, she had no memory of his skills with potions. She had been aware of his Master's degree but she somehow still found herself surprised as she watched him. He seemed so comfortable with his work that it could almost be described as a sort of dance.

She had unconsciously leaned against the door frame as she observed and had become so absorbed in studying his movements that she didn't noticed when he glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you going to stand there gawking all morning, Granger?"

Startled, her head shot up and she met his slightly amused gaze, suddenly feeling very glad she hadn't allowed her mouth to hang open as she watched. He barely held her gaze for a second before turning back to the potion he had been working on, his hands never once faltering. Finally leaving the safety of the door frame, Hermione stepped into the sitting room and slowly padded over to stand by the brewing table. "You're up early."

"How observant," he replied dryly.

"Did you even sleep last night?" Raising an eye brow, Snape glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Hermione gestured toward the bedroom door. "Your bed looked like it hasn't been touched since the night before."

Much to her surprise, Snape rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the cauldron. "You blood suckers are all too observant for your own good." He had spoken so quietly she wasn't sure if he had been merely talking to himself. Regardless of his intention, she couldn't help but smile a little at his round about confirmation of her suspicion.

Remaining silent, Hermione leaned forward a little to look more closely at the potions he had been working on. There were now two additional cauldrons on the table, joining the original ones holding the Blood Replenishing potion and the mysterious white potion. She studied the new bubbling liquids for a moment then glanced down at the space between the cauldrons and Snape. Laying on the old wooden surface in front of the third cauldron were various amounts of scurvy-grass, peppermint, ginger root, moonstone, and belladonna. In front of the fourth cauldron lay flubberworms, wormwood, valerian, Sopophorous beans, asphodel petals, pine nettles, and bag of standard herb mix. A marble mortar and pestle sat between the two sets of ingredients, along with a few beakers with various amounts of water, a small silver blade, and a pile of lavender.

Frowning, Hermione looked between the ingredients and the cauldrons. "What are you doing?"

Snape paused, turning his head slightly to look at her with a blank expression. "That can't possibly be a serious question."

"You know what I mean." Snape arched a questioning eye brow, causing her to sigh and shake her head. "Why are you brewing more Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draught? They didn't work."

Turning his attention back to the potions, Snape dropped one ginger root, a dash of scurvy-grass, and a bit of peppermint into the third cauldron. "Perhaps you aren't as observant as I thought," he muttered sarcastically.

Blinking, Hermione shot him a confused expression. "I still had the nightmare."

Snape grabbed his wand and used it to lower the temperature of the flame below the cauldron before turning his whole body to face her. "True as that may be, the potions did work, thought not with the intended results. The Calming Draught forced your body into a stasis instead of relaxing you, locking your suffering inside your mind." Crossing his arms over his chest, he gazed at her like a doctor studying a patient. "Did you notice anything different about the dream?"

Hermione lowered her head and absentmindedly chewed on her lip. As far as she could tell, the emotional impact had been the same as always, however she could detect a faint hint of something else when she tried to focus harder on the dream. Nodding, she lifted her head. "I think my senses were more aware. Everything had been ... sharper, more defined."

"Do you remember any of it?"

"No."

Sighing, Snape relaxed his arms and looked down at the ingredients on the table. "It would seem that the venom burnt away some of the components while leaving others intact, essentially creating entirely new potions within your body."

"I didn't think it was possible to separate the components once a potion has been brewed."

"It isn't, or at least it's not supposed to be." Facing the brewing table once more, Snape retrieved a small ladle from the opposite end of the table and slowly stirred the Calming Draught. He had been just as surprised as Hermione when he worked out what had happened. The potions Morgan had used had either failed, succeeded, or partly accomplished the desired effect, never once producing a different effect all together. "Regardless," he continued sternly, "the deterioration of the components caused them to react closer to the effects of spells rather than potions; the Calming Draught acted very similarly to_ Petrificus Totalus_, while the Dreamless Sleep seemed to enhance the nightmare instead of blocking it."

Hermione watched as Snape slipped an extra sprig of peppermint into the cauldron. As far as she could recall, the Calming Draught only needed to be stirred once every ten minutes and only required one sprig of peppermint, which she had seen him throw in with the other ingredients a few minutes ago. It wasn't until he had stopped stirring and removed the ladle from the cauldron that she finally understood why he had been up all night. "You're trying to make alternative versions of the potions. Ones that will survive an attack from the venom."

"I'm surprised you didn't figure it out sooner, Granger. And here I thought you were top of your class," Snape teased dryly. A smirk tugged at his lips when he caught the glare she sent him by the corner of his eye.

After a moment Hermione shrugged off his comment and carefully watched as he continued to make minor modifications to the original recipe. "These potions don't take a very long time to brew, maybe an hour and a half at most," she mused in a low voice, trying not to interrupt him too much. "Nothing to lose sleep over."

"Making modifications is a very exact practice and often involves a lot of trial and error, even for someone of my skill level." Snape reached his hand into the bag of mixed herbs and pinched a small batch between his fingers, then slowly added them to the fourth cauldron while stirring the brew counter clockwise. "The modifications these potions will require to make them effective for _you_ are far trickier than most. I've had to dispose of several failed batches already."

Silence fell between them with only the sound of the bubbling cauldrons to fill the air. Hermione's eyes remained trained on the cauldrons but her mind had wondered elsewhere. How had he even known that the Calming Draught had reacted the way it had? And why had he stayed up all night trying to modify the potions instead of waiting until the morning? He couldn't very well use the excuse of her nightmares keeping him awake this time. According to him she had been in a complete body bind so she wouldn't have been able to make a sound, let alone thrash around on the bed. A thought came to mind and she couldn't help but smile a little at the ridiculousness of it. "You checked up on me."

Snape froze. His pause had lasted barely more than a second but it had been enough for Hermione to notice. "I did no such thing," he snapped, grabbing the silver blade with his right hand.

"Then how did you know the potions hadn't worked properly?"

"I needed to retrieve a book from my nightstand," he shot back with a slight scowl. "It is my room, Granger. I can enter as I see fit."

Hermione's smile widened a little at his defensiveness and she had opened her mouth with the intent on questioning him further when her eyes fell on the blade in his hands. He had gathered a few Sopophorous beans and had turned the blade on it's side, using it to crush the beans instead of cutting them. Her mind came to a complete stop as she watched him repeat the process with two more beans, squeezing the juice from the beans into the fourth cauldron after they had all been crushed. Finding it difficult to get her brain working again, she blurted out the first coherent thing she could manage. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Do what?" he questioned absentmindedly while squeezing the last bean over the cauldron.

"_That_," she stressed, gesturing to the blade that now lay back on table. "Crushing the beans."

Snape cleaned his hands off on a towel that had been hidden behind the cauldrons. "I figured it out while I was a student."

Hermione silently stared at the blade as her brain finally caught up to her. The only other person she had seen crush the beans with the blade had been Harry. And Harry had only done so after learning about it through the mysterious old potions textbook. Had Snape stumbled across the same book during his school days? "So no one taught you how to do that?" she asked carefully.

A small smirk crossed his lips as he increased the temperature of the flame with the barest wave of his wand. "Of course not. Slughorn taught Potions back then, and while he is a rather well versed in the subject, he has always been a bit daft. Ingenuity has never been his style."

"Have you ever showed anyone else how to do that?"

"No." His tone held a certain amount of finality, indicating that he wouldn't accept any more questions on the subject.

Biting her tongue to avoid letting her mouth run off with her, she sank back into her thoughts. He hadn't mentioned the textbook but that didn't mean he didn't know about it. The more she thought about it the more plausible it seemed that Snape's skills with potions may have advanced at a young age due to using the same textbook that Harry had now. Her determination to nick the book from Harry had dropped a little over the past two weeks, but this mystery had suddenly reignited her desire. Now she _had_ to get her hands on that book. But until then, she would let the subject go. This had been the first time they hadn't reverted to the state of irrational children when conversing and she wanted to keep it that way.

Snape gently stirred the contents of the third potion again before turned to face her. He studied her in silence for a moment through narrowed eyes but otherwise his expression appeared as closed off as always. Finally glancing away, he stepped past her in favor of the chairs by the fireplace. After sitting down he turned his head toward her and gestured to the chair opposite him. "There is something we need to discuss."

Hermione silently followed him and set herself comfortably in her usual chair. They had somehow come to an unspoken agreement as to which chair belonged to them and made a point of sitting in the chairs instead of the couch unless it was time for her feeding. Sitting on the couch during any other time felt out of place and forbidden in some manner. "It this about yesterday?"

"Not exactly." Pausing to study her once more, something swarmed through his eyes that she couldn't quite place while his expression remained stoic. "However, that is a good place to start." He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on his thighs in startlingly casual manner. "What do you remember about yesterday morning?"

"Not very much," she admitted quietly. "Mostly the emotions. The rage become so strong it is was painful and I couldn't think straight. I could see everything and I was aware of what I was doing, but I couldn't find it within myself to stop." Sighing, she lowered her head in shame at what she was about to confess. "I _wanted_ to hurt you."

There was a brief silence before Snape finally spoke. "I can't say I blame you."

Hermione's head shot up and she stared at him with a blatant expression of confusion and shock. "What?"

"I'm not justifying what you did, Granger," he snapped, though with far less bite than usual. "It merely makes more sense now."

"What does?"

Holding her gaze, Snape squinted his eyes slightly as if trying to carefully choose the right words. "You've hated me since the night you came out of the coma." Hermione flinched. She had most definitely disliked him and hadn't trusted him, but hate seemed like too harsh of a word. But after the way she had treated him she couldn't say she felt surprised to hear him say it. Ignoring her reaction, Snape pressed on. "Though the most puzzling revelation that night had been that you recognized me when you couldn't remember anything else. However, you said something yesterday that put it all into perspective."

Swallowing nervously, Hermione loosely wrapped her arms around her abdomen. "What did I say?"

Snape straightened up, his casual appearance disappearing as he pressed his back against the chair. His face had remained unreadable through the conversation, but his eyes had suddenly become incredibly cold and the strange emotion that she had seen in them earlier had completely died out. His hands had curled into fists on the arms of the chair as his gaze seemed to pierce right through her. "'_You were there._'"

Those three words sent a shiver down her back and she ripped her eyes away from his, settling them on the roaring fire instead. She didn't need to ask about the context; she understood what it meant. She had recognized him because she had still been conscious to some degree when he had found her in the Forest and drove her attackers away. Though whether she had actually seen him or just recognized his voice, she wasn't sure. But for whatever reason, she had retained a memory of his being at the scene. And since she had lost all of her other memories of the incident she had connected her memory of Snape to the suffering she had endured, subconsciously turning him into one of monsters who had almost killed her.

"I see," she whispered. Continuing to gaze into the flames, she cleared her throat. "Did you know I was still ... awake?"

"No."

Nodding, Hermione took in a deep breath to try to calm the nausea that had invaded her stomach. "That definitely does put it into perspective," she managed to say, though her voice faltered a little part way.

With her eyes averted, Snape allowed himself to squirm a little in his chair. She had no idea just how much had come to light from the events of the previous day. The mere thought of what he had learned about the attack still made him feel ill. And the conversation he had had with Dumbledore had haunted him all night, which had been why he choose to work on the potion alterations. If he wasn't going to sleep regardless, he felt it would be better to be productive with his time. And despite what Hermione thought, what he had told her about the book on his nightstand had been true. He had gone to the bedroom purely for the book but in the end he couldn't resist checking up on her while already in the room, expecting to either find her sleeping peacefully or whimpering in pain like she normally did. It took him a good minute of studying her unnaturally still body before he had pieced together what had happened, and once he had, he quickly fled the room and immediately started working on the potions. His determination to ensure her night terrors were eradicated had increased tenfold since his meeting with the headmaster.

The modification experiments had also served as an excellent distraction from what Dumbledore had demanded of him. He had been able to better compartmentalize his thoughts as he meticulously worked on the potions. Between disposing of failed batches and beginning new ones, he had be able to organize his mind well enough to formulated a plan of how to approach Hermione about her memories. Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased with what Snape had ultimately decided to do, but in Snape's opinion, the old bugger could shove it. After the way he had treated him last night, Dumbledore didn't have to right to make all the rules anymore. At least not where Hermione was concerned.

"Granger." She closed her eyes for a moment as if steeling herself before finally turning her head to look at him. Relaxing his posture marginally, he uncurled his fists and let his fingers rest fully extended along the arm of the chair in the hope that it would help her relax a little as well. "Professor Dumbledore has a theory about your attackers. He believes they may have told you something that could prove useful in the war."

"Useful to who?"

Snape shrugged. "Both sides, perhaps." Hermione nodded halfheartedly to show acknowledgement and clicked her tongue in annoyance. She had made it disturbingly clear weeks ago that she had no interest in the second war. "There is a chance that the headmaster is wrong, of course. Though, unfortunately, that is unlikely."

"What does it matter now?" she asked sarcastically with a fair amount of bite behind the words. "I can't remember anything."

Taking in a slow, deep breath, Snape carefully considered his next words. He could very well back out on his plan now but if he said anything more there would be no turning back. Before he could drive himself crazy with more speculations, he gave his mouth over to instinct and hoped it would guide him down the right path. "He has _requested_ that we attempt to work on reviving your memories." Calling it a request felt like a complete joke, but he wanted to avoid actively informing her that he responded to direct orders from the headmaster.

Regardless, she seemed to catch on to the emphasis he had placed on the word. "Could it really be _that_ important?"

"Possibly."

They held each others gaze in silence. She definitely didn't seem pleased but she at least had managed to keep her temper under control so far. "Am I correct in assuming that you weren't supposed to tell me this?" He didn't need to speak to give her the answer. He shrugged indifferently, though a slight smirk betrayed him. "Then why _are_ you telling me?"

Snape held his tongue for a moment, deciding whether or not it would be best to be blatantly honest. He full well intended to tell her the truth, but he knew the manner in which he explained himself would effect her reaction. "They are your memories to do with as you choose, not his. You have every right to say 'no'."

"I doubt the headmaster sees it that way."

"Does it look like I care?" Slightly intrigued by his response, Hermione quirked an eye brow and stared at him incredulously. Ignoring her, he moved on. "Before you make a decision though, there are some other details you need to consider." He waited for her brief nod before continuing. "While there are a few methods that we could try that have a chance at helping to restore your memories, most of them aren't available in this situation. We now know that memory potions would be rendered useless and it would take far too long to brew a version that would be compatible with you. There is also no guarantees that compatibility would even be possible. Arithmancy would take even longer and even when calculated correctly only provides the basic concepts but would leave us blind to the details. I daresay it would be even more unreliable than the potions. Which leaves us with only one option; _Legilimancy._"

Her eyes widened slightly in shock, but only for a moment before she turned away from him and stared into the fire once more. "Fine."

"Pardon?"

"I said 'fine'," she repeated, sounding rather lifeless.

Internally scowling, Snape cleared his throat in an effort to contain his own temper. "Granger, I don't think you understand what you are agreeing to."

"Of course I do," she shot back bitterly.

"_No you don't!_" He hadn't shouted necessarily, but the slightest increase in his volume held enough power to silence a room full of Death Eaters. Hermione jolted and stared at him with a slightly uncertain expression. She had never seen him quite this upset; even when they had argued he had shown more restraint and he had often been the first to back down. Breathing deeply, Snape regained control before continuing. "The nightmares you have been having are not dreams. The emotions left behind every morning are very much real and using _Legilimancy_ will make it impossible to forget again."

The realization of what he said hit her like a brick to the face. She had never really been sure if the dreams had a connection to her memories or if they had merely been byproducts of her traumatized psyche. Regardless, she had held on to hope that it had all been made up in her head. But now she felt like her nerves have been stripped raw as the one method she had put in place to try to remain calm about it all had suddenly been destroyed.

Snape watched the wide range of emotions flash through her eyes. First there had been shock, then fear, followed by pure, unfiltered anger. What had surprised him was the recognition that the anger had been completely her own, unaffected by her vampiric side for the first time. He remained silent and let her work through the feelings on her own with the knowledge that anything he could do or say would only make it worse. This had to be her choice and she wouldn't be able to make a clear decision until she had taken the time to truly confront herself. He only hoped that in the end she would fight Dumbledore's orders with him. Alone he could only deny the headmaster for so long, but if someone else were to be on his side it wouldn't take long to force Dumbledore to back down.

After a few minutes he noticed the anger start to fade in favor of deep thought as she worked through her emotions. She seemed to be seriously considering her options, though whether she had also considered her slightly fragile stability remained unseen. She had always seemed logical enough over the years to truly take everything into account so he prayed she would do the same now. Finally after a little more than ten minutes of complete silence, she seemed to come out of her thoughts, her eyes dilating a little when she seemed to finally see him again. Snape froze in his seat, holding his breath as he prepared for her response.

"Does _Occlumency _block _Legilimancy_ completely when used correctly?"

Blinking, Snape released his breath quietly and relaxed his body a little. He had most definitely not expected this kind of response. What was she getting at? "If used correctly, yes," he responded slowly.

She nodded and glanced down at the floor, the index finger of her right hand brushing absentmindedly across her lips as she thought. "Is it possible, between the two abilities, to selectively retrieve only a certain portion of someone's memories while blocking the rest?"

"For anyone else, yes. But it wouldn't function the same way for you."

"What do you mean?"

Snape shrugged. "_Occlumency_ can only protect what someone is actively aware of. You could learn to block out what you studied in your classes, for example, but you can't block what you don't remember."

Nodding again, she looked up and matched his gaze once more. "And what about _Legilimancy_?" When Snape frowned slightly at her question, she pressed on in order to clarify. "Can the person doing the invasion enter someone's mind at a specific point in a memory and only witness that selection?"

As the understanding of her questions finally dawned on him, he had to actively avoid letting his jaw drop open. She had most definitely considered _all_ of her options, in so much as to attempt to discover a way around using straight _Legilimancy_. The brilliance of her thought process had been so astounding that he felt a little jealous that he hadn't considered it himself. Unfortunately, regardless of her good thinking, the reality of what she wanted to know slammed down on him before he could get too hopeful. He took a moment to gather his own thoughts before responding. "Technically, yes. But it's not that simple. If the person invading wanted to find a certain memory, they would have to enter their victim's mind first and sort through the memories available to find what they are looking for."

"What if they knew exactly when the events had taken place?" she pressed, trying to avoid letting too much hope slip into her voice.

Sighing, Snape shook his head. "I know what you want to hear, Granger, but it's not that easy. Having an understanding of the time frame would help cut down on time purely by weeding out other memories to get there. But even once the memory has been found, regardless of how quickly, it is incredibly difficult to isolate a single piece of information from them. Memories in the mind are the same as memories viewed in a Pensieve; you would still see the details. Then there is also your Amnesia to take into consideration."

"How would that effect it?"

"Your memories will be scrambled. The information we would be looking for could have been completely separated from the rest of the details of the attack, or even placed right in the middle of the rest of it." He felt a little guilty as he watched the hopeful light in her eyes slowly dim. "I'm not saying it is impossible. I'm just trying to get you to see the reality of what you are agreeing to. Using _Legilimancy_ on you would be far more complicated than with anyone else and we would both likely see things that better left forgotten."

They studied each other carefully. Hermione could feel the heavy warning in his words. She didn't _want_ to be forced to see what had happened to her, nor did she want to force Snape to witness it either. He had described her ruined body as being completely destroyed when he had found her and she couldn't even imagine how disturbing that must have been for him. And being put in a situation where he would be likely to see how she ended up that way didn't feel like a proper way to repay him for saving her life. But regardless of the risks, she couldn't let go of the possibility that it could very well work. "But it's possible."

Closing his eyes, Snape turned his head away from her. No matter what he could say, it didn't look like she would be willing to back down. Her strength of will could almost be admirable if he wasn't so busy feeling angry that she refused to defy Dumbledore. "Why does it even matter? You don't care about the war."

"You're right," she replied softly. "But Neville does."

Snape's eyes flew open and he stared at her. As sickeningly sentimental as it seemed, he suddenly understood. She had managed to forge a strong bond with Neville, strong enough that losing him would have a huge impact on her fight to remain stable. Somehow Neville had become her anchor to humanity. And while she felt rather removed from the world in her current state, Neville sided with Harry, and by extension he sided with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. Which meant that no matter how messed up Dumbledore's plans seemed to be, if Neville sided with the headmaster, so would Hermione. He supposed that his one saving grace had been her determination to think outside of the box.

Sighing, his shoulder fell. "It is possible, yes." Before she could get too excited, he held his hand up in protest. "We can try, but it won't be easy. It will be exhausting and anything we stumble upon accidentally can't be avoided. You need to be absolutely sure you are prepared to take the risk. What you endured that night should have killed you and seeing any of it could further damage you in ways you can't possibly understand."

He felt relieved to see proper reason and consideration fill her features. Her eyes seemed far away even though they remained trained on him. After a moment she closed her eyes and sighed. "I'll think about it."

Snape nodded, feeling rather grateful that she would actually take the time to properly consider it. And no matter how much he wanted to her to say no, he knew he would have to start preparing himself for the possibility that she would still want to go through with it. "You should go have breakfast. Some nutrition will help ease any lingering effects of the potions."

Hermione silently stood and crossed to the portrait. But before she could leave, Snape called out to her. Pausing, she turned back to face him in time to see him striding towards her with his wand in hand. "Yes?"

"Brown eyes are a bad idea," he expressed bluntly. "Your friends have adjusted to the new color so the sudden change will cause some uncomfortable questions. You're better of using a dark purple to simulate the color they have come to see as normal." He flicked his wand in a pattern she recognized, altering the concealment charm she had put on her eyes. Apparently satisfied, tucked his wand up his left sleeve and silently walked away to tend to the potions on the brewing table without another word.


End file.
